The Sort-of-Doctor
by LittleGreenGirlxx
Summary: "Rose admitted this much – he certainly looked like her Doctor. His dark eyes held the same defeated sadness she had observed every day for so long. His suit was the same; so were his shoes, his hairstyle, his voice, every line on his face. His tall, lanky frame, thin hands. Everything. And yet – yet she couldn't see it. They were different." TentooxRose, relationship-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! I don't know about the rest of you, but I find it quite difficult to understand how Tentoo and Rose's relationship would have gone... So I'm going to try and write it out, the way I see it, bit by bit. It's not going to be all roses and champagne... Let's see how this unfolds. Welcome to "The Sort-of-Doctor", Chapter One. Please read and review, but only constructive criticism please... :) **

* * *

The zeppelin ride back to London was a silent one: above all, Jackie was confused. Rose felt abandoned, whole, empty, full, thrilled, dejected; all of the above and nothing at all, all at once. The sort-of-Doctor, much to everyone's surprise, was asleep, the TARDIS coral held tightly to his chest like a comfort blanket. Jackie made numerous attempts to talk to her daughter, only to be shushed like a naughty child while the young woman stared avidly either at the slumbering sort-of-Doctor or out of the window at the darkening sky.

She inspected him as he slept, this basic function immediately sending her reeling. Her Doctor hardly _ever_ slept. Aside from once in his regenerative coma, she had never known him to need more than a quick half hour kip after an especially strenuous adventure, the likes of which he always took when she was at home or asleep herself. Almost three hours he had been asleep, which admittedly gave Rose plenty of time to study him at length.

Rose admitted this much – he certainly _looked _like her Doctor. His dark eyes held the same defeated sadness she had observed every day for so long. His suit was the same; so were his shoes, his hairstyle, his voice, every line on his face. His tall, lanky frame, thin hands. Everything.

And yet – yet she couldn't see it. They were _different_. Her Doctor had left her again, abandoned on some God-forsaken beach in the parallel world she had worked so damn hard to escape, with a poor man's copy of himself. On top of every other emotion that currently jumbled around inside her, the most prominent feeling she had was one of sheer fury. Rose's hands clenched in her lap, fisting in the material of her trousers. How _dare _that arrogant, ancient man make a decision for her again – stranding her with someone she didn't even want! The very sight of his (what, clone?) double made her blood boil 'til she could stand to look at him no longer.

Jackie watched as Rose stood, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and stalking out of the main sitting area of the zeppelin towards the bathroom. The older woman sighed deeply and fixed her eyes on the man spread out on the reclining chair, legs crossed at the ankles with his head slightly back. He certainly _seemed _like the same man. He'd even held back from touching Rose after he'd said whatever it was to her, allowing her to make the decision on her own to grab him by the lapels and kiss him. She couldn't fathom it. What _was _their problem?! The other Doctor had given them his blessing. He had that ginger Doctor Donna to keep him company now, and had left behind a human version of himself behind, practically gift wrapped for her daughter to enjoy.

Was Rose's problem that he was part-human? Did the thought of actually being able to live some semblance of a normal life with him horrify her so much? Was it that he had (apparently, although Jackie didn't understand how) _grown_ from the hand the Doctor had lost? Was it the simple fact that he hadn't bothered to put a tie on?

The sort-of-Doctor snuffled slightly in his sleep and turned on his side, drawing his knees a little closer to his chest and clutching the TARDIS coral as though his life depended on it. She sighed again, wondering if maybe it did. As Jackie reached across and brushed an unruly strand of hair out of his face, her fingertip just brushed his cool skin and the sort-of-Doctor jerked awake, jumping upright in a way that would have been comical under normal circumstances.

"What?" he gasped, eyes darting around the room as he anticipated attack, holding out his empty right hand where his sonic screwdriver was normally grasped. After a few deep breaths, the sort-of-Doctor focused and turned slowly to Jackie. "What?"

"Sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to wake you," Jackie smiled gently, settling back in her own chair. "You just looked so sweet lying there. Couldn't ever imagine that other nutter ever-"

"Actually I did sleep sometimes, you know," the sort-of-Doctor cut her off, his eyes hard. "I wasn't always… _Well_, actually, that's a lie. I _was_ always… I mean, I…"

"Just go back to sleep, Doctor. You're exhausted," she said, too tired, confused and irritated to deal with his usual self-pity. To silence him, she yanked an age old magazine out from her handbag and opened it to a random page, ignoring the fact that it was so obviously upside down. Rebuffed, the sort-of-Doctor stood quickly and exited towards the rear of the zeppelin.

* * *

Rose sagged against the couch as the footsteps approached, massaging her temples with the heel of her hand. A long figure crossed her line of vision and stood in front of the window, hands in his pockets, feet apart – the stance she knew so well. The sort-of-Doctor didn't try to speak to her, but she felt she had to say _something_.

"I'm sorry I kissed you." She mentally slapped herself – of all the things she could have said! She heard him breathe slowly through his nose.

"That's okay. Understandable, even. Human urges and everything," he replied, his offhand tone misleading. It riled her.

"You're _not_ him, you know. Whatever he says. You're like him, yeah, but you're not. You're like…"

"I'm a metacrisis. An anomaly. I'm half Time Lord, half human. I'm the poor copy of the man you wanted. Don't worry, I know."

"You're not-"

"Rose, _I know_. I committed genocide, I'm bad. I'm just as bad as I was when you first met me. Him. Me. Him. M-"

"Him."

"You don't want to be associated with me. Just drop me off in London and I'll go assume an identity and wait for this TARDIS to grow. I'm not the one you want so you'll be better off without me, and I'm better off alone."

The sort-of-Doctor leaned forward during the silence that followed, resting his palms on the window ledge and almost pressing his nose to the glass. Rose almost felt a pang of pity – he hadn't had a say in this either.

"Why did you say- y'know. That," Rose muttered, thinking of the words that had elicited the explosion of excitement in her heart and caused her to kiss him.

"That I love you?"

"Yeah, that."

"Oh Rose, for someone so clever… Because that was how my – _his _sentence was going to end that day. I said it because he – I – _we_, even… _Well… _We do love you. But he got it wrong. He thought you'd be happy with little old human me. It's not often we get things wrong but we **really** messed it up this time," he said, turning and giving her that sad little half-smile she'd grown to love.

"I-"

"Don't, Rose. We both know he was wrong. Let's just call it a day. I'll never stop loving you, and you'll never stop loving him."


	2. Chapter 2

The morning was dark, damp and cold, and a thick fog lingered over the Tyler mansion. A few lights shone in the upstairs windows – Pete possibly getting ready to welcome his wife, daughter and guest. The sort-of-Doctor sat in the back seat beside Rose, pretending to ignore her frequent unveiled glances. He was peeved enough as it was – his senses, though still sharper than the average human, were much duller than he was used to, as well as the creeping wave of exhaustion and hunger that threatened to engulf him soon. The lonely heart beating in his chest only added fuel to the bitter fire already burning in him; barely two days old and he was already tired of life.

Jackie was the first one out of the car, slamming the door loudly and barrelling off towards the front door where Pete stood, a tired looking little boy standing grumpily by his side. Rose and the sort-of-Doctor watched as the mother gathered up her son then threw her other arm around her husband, encasing them both in her tight embrace. Rose looked pointedly at the sort-of-Doctor, her stomach squirming as he looked back, that small half smile adorning his thin face. His eyes were, if it were possible, even more melancholy than usual.

"Look at them. They thought they had lost each other forever – then they found their other half all over again. Funny ol' world," he said, his voice deep in his chest. Rose allowed him a small smile, the end of her tongue peeking through her teeth.

"Yeah. Was hard though. Took them ages to really work it out. Even after Tony was born they weren't really comfortable together… Only when he nearly got lost on a trip into town did they really come together and properly _fit_. He was three, so about two years ago now, it was," she replied,

"That long?"

"Oh yeah, they were all over the place for ages. One minute they couldn't keep their hands off each other, the next they were packing their bags to separate again. Honestly, it was like living with a pair of teenagers – it was embarrassing!" A laugh escaped her then, and the sort-of-Doctor's face split into a wide grin.

"Oh yes, I suppose it would be. Snogging behind the bike sheds then telling tales and falling out, were they?" he chuckled, tongue touching the roof of his mouth.

"All the time! Now, though, they're just…right. And we're okay too – he's my dad, I'm his daughter. You'd never have guessed they weren't the original-" Rose stopped short, and the grins collapsed and slid from their faces, turning serious once more. She looked away and quickly began towards the house and he let her stride ahead a few paces before following.

They were greeted by a beaming Pete, who immediately threw his arms around Rose and hugged her tightly.

"Well done, sweetheart. You got him," he grinned, releasing her and moving onto the sort-of-Doctor who he slapped jovially on the shoulder.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the blue-suited man replied with a tired nod. Pete missed his dejection and motioned them to enter the mansion after Jackie, who carried Tony and cooed incessantly.

"Now I know you two aren't gonna be able to keep your hands off each other, but the only thing I ask is that you keep it down – we've got a kid in the house," Pete continued, winking conspiratorially at the pair of them, seeming surprised when Rose stopped dead.

"We won't be, Dad."

"No, Pete, I'm not staying. Our relationship isn't going to be like that," the sort-of-Doctor agreed quickly. The older man looked thoroughly confused.

"I know something funny's happened – something to do with a hand and a clone and other weird stuff – but does it matter? You're still the Doctor. You and my Rose are meant to be together," he said, emitting a breathy laugh.

"It's better if I-"

Rose cut the sort-of-Doctor off with a flurried hug to her father and a muttered excuse, before running forward to pick up her little brother into a tight cuddle – she couldn't face talking about her situation any more.

Pete and the sort-of-Doctor stood in silence for a moment as the women and child entered a room to the left of the grand staircase, talking avidly.

"It's better if I go, Pete," the sort-of-Doctor continued, passing a hand over his face, his full bottom lip pouting forward slightly. "She doesn't want me. I'm not _her_ Doctor. _Well_, I am. But I'm not. All very confusing. Metacrisis, half human, shimmy shammy scienency wiency-"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Doctor. So you're part human, what does it matter? She still loves you, I can tell."

"She hasn't called me Doctor."

"So?"

"It's alright, Pete. She'll be fine. She'll be better off without me – I've got a TARDIS to grow and some papers to forge under the name John Smith. She'll know her Doctor is safe and sound in the other universe, and she'll never need to see this poor one-hearted copy ever again. It's fine! Might even be able to cobble together a new sonic – don't suppose you've got any spare coat hangers and some sticky tape?"

"Doctor, give her a _chance_! You've got to give her time to get her head around this!"

"Time is the one thing I don't have anymore, Pete. I'll say goodbye to Jackie and Rose then I'll be off." The sort-of-Doctor made to pass Pete, but was stopped by a pair of strong hands clutching his shoulders. Pete made forceful eye contact, looking less than amused.

"You're not going anywhere, my boy. You're dead on your feet – if you really need to be apart, fine. Rose doesn't live here anymore anyway – got her own little flat now out past Harrow. Just stay here for a few days until you can get yourself sorted, alright? You're still gonna be the Doctor to me," he said, slapping his bicep once again. Too tired to argue and too broken to fight, the sort-of-Doctor nodded and allowed himself to be ushered into the living room.

* * *

The atmosphere in the room was surprisingly warm, considering the storm of emotions brewing between two of the inhabitants. Tony had immediately taken to the sort-of-Doctor and was currently wedged in at his side, introducing his new friend to all of his favourite action figures.

"And this is Thor – he saves the world like you but he does it with a hammer instead of a screwdriver. Are all tools magic?" he asked, lisping slightly and nearly poking out his mothers' eye as he waved the toy wildly. The sort-of-Doctor laughed softly.

"With the right tools you can build a better world, Tony. I suppose it is a kind of magic… Although I don't think _magic_ is the best way to describe it – is Thor's hammer sonic? It's all more scientific really as magic doesn't exi-"

"Tea everyone?!" Jackie cried, cutting off the almost-death of her sons childish dreams. Rose scrutinised the sort-of-Doctor as he nodded, mouth slightly open in the half confusion she recognised: he didn't know what he'd said that had been so wrong. She almost felt a flare of pity and affection.

"What's saying I come back over tonight after you've been to school and we watch a film, yeah?" she smiled at her little brother, who nodded eagerly.

"Can we watch a Disney?" he squealed, clapping his little hands gleefully.

"Sure can," Rose grinned, sliding out of her chair and crawling over to sit in front of the little boy – she had missed him so much. "Which one do you want to watch?"

"The Lion King!" the sort-of-Doctor cried suddenly, eyebrows shooting up almost to his hairline. Rose snorted.

"We watched that the night before I left, Tony doesn't wanna see it again, do you?"

The little boy opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off again. "How about… Beauty and the Beast? You like the angry talking clock."

"Yeah!" Tony nodded, handing his big sister his action figure by way of thanks. "Can we eat pizza too?"

Rose pouted thoughtfully and cast her eyes right and left (Pete studiously pretended to be absorbed with a day old newspaper from the coffee table) then nodded conspiratorially.

"I might even bright you chocolate," she whispered, and Tony gasped in delight. Jackie chose that moment to swan back into the room, without the tea she had promised. She scooped her little boy off the couch, muttering about getting him ready for school; he protested wildly, but she ignored him as only a mother can. Pete followed, the urge to be out of the emotional hothouse too great to ignore.

From her perch on the floor, Rose calmly studied the cracks in the leather couch. The sort-of-Doctor kept his eyes studiously ahead, knowing she wouldn't take kindly to him staring at her.

"It's not your fault, you know," Rose muttered, lifting a hand and lightly tracing the cracks with the tip of her index finger. The sort-of-Doctor rolled his eyes and laughed mirthlessly.

"Most things that go wrong are my fault. I came to terms with that about… Ah… Five hundred years ago?"

"I don't mean the universe at large, you arrogant old sod," she said, though not too unkindly. He arched an eyebrow and turned his questioning gaze on her. "I mean the way I feel."

He considered this for a moment, scrunching up his face and drawing out his words. "_Well_, it sort of is. It was my own vanity that created me, really… Plus Donna, poking her nose about. And I did it again – killed off a whole race. I seem to be developing quite a talent."

"Even though you said it on the beach – that thing the Doctor could never say – you're just like him that you're diverting the conversation away from what you don't wanna talk about."

"Old habits die hard. Did I ever tell you about the time that I forgot take a banana to a birthday party on Lilidum Seven? It wasn't pretty. Or – oh! Or the time I ate **so many **jelly babies I nearly had to regenerate because of the excess of sugar in my blood? Or the time when-"

Rose silenced his zany monologue by setting her raised hand on his leg, just above his knee. She'd never liked the material of this suit – it was a little rougher than the brown pinstripe. He stilled immediately, his breath hitched. After a very pregnant pause, she simply pushed herself up into a standing position, using his leg as support.

"I don't mind if you wanna stay 'til you sort yourself out. Just don't push me," she said, looking as defeated as he had ever seen her.

"Have I ever?" he replied – she didn't answer, and left the room.

Outside, Rose hurried to her car and threw herself inside, resting her head against the steering wheel. He was the Doctor, but he really wasn't. She couldn't bring herself to call him by that name. Each time she looked at him something different surfaced – love, longing, loathing, indifference. They had chatted as normal on the TARDIS, before the Doctor had abandoned them both. He had a habit of doing that. The throbbing rage returned, and her little car tore down the long driveway and into the distance at a much faster speed than was safe.

Inside, the sort-of-Doctor had only one coherent thought before he fell back into a slumber – human or Time Lord, he really did love her. The difficult choice was this – should he try and prove it, or leave her be? For the first time in a terribly long time, he hadn't even the slightest inkling about the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to those who have favourited, followed and reviewed so far! Writing as a Whovian is still quite new to me so I'm making up the technobabble as I go along. Someone also said it was a pity this story died after just two chapters... I've only been writing it for a few days! It ain't going anywhere yet! Also the thing I talk about at the end was something I got from an interview with Billie Piper and I thought it was an interesting perspective... **

**So yes. Please read, review and enjoy! Tell your friends! :D**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Doctor Who still isn't mine! **

* * *

As soon as Pete entered with the blue suited man in tow, the entire top floor office of Torchwood fell silent. It had only been with the promise of ideal TARDIS growing conditions that the businessman had even managed to persuade the sort-of-Doctor to even set foot in the place after the disastrous events back in the other universe. The long limbed half human cast his eyes warily around as he lingered in the doorway, half suspecting to be jumped upon (figuratively speaking) and captured by Daleks within seconds. Nothing happened except one bespectacled man at the back of the room fainted in surprise – apparently, the sort-of-Doctor thought wryly, his reputation preceded him. Again. Pete coughed.

"Team, this is the Doctor...sort of. When he's here, leave him be – he's working with me and me alone. There's no need to pester him with questions," he said, nodding with finality and beginning the long stride across the office to the door at the other side. His words were met with murmurs, but his staff heeded him.

"I don't mind if they want to ask me questions. I could help them," the sort-of-Doctor muttered as he trailed behind Pete, still not convinced that this Torchwood was not a carbon copy of its destructive twin. 'Help', in this case, was code for 'find out what you're all up to in here'.

"Nah. Most important thing right now is that you grow that new TARDIS of yours. Didn't even know those things were grown, I thought they were _built_… It's a machine, isn't it?"

"More of a living organism really… Time Lord technology; hard for the human brain to understand. That's why it's imperative that she has the desktop theme – looking at the true TARDIS would… _Well_, melt your mind, really."

"Right. Nice. I-"

"Brilliant, actually! Just **brilliant**. Not the melting your mind part, obviously, but if you consider that all of time and space can be accessed by this little tiny piece of coral – brilliant. It'll all grow from here. The time rotor, the console, the swimming pool-"

"_Doctor_!" Pete cried, slamming a door behind them that the sort-of-Doctor hadn't even noticed walking through. "Will you shut up?"

"No! You shut up, earth boy!" he screeched in reply, bobbing his head in a most un-Doctor-ish manner before looking utterly horrified. "Pete, I'm so sorry! Seems like a bit of Donna pushed out there. Her attitude isn't easy to keep repressed. Looks like I'll be even more rude than ever. Just _brilliant_."

* * *

Later that evening, the sort-of-Doctor returned to the Tyler mansion with Pete; he had never been this fatigued. He still hadn't slept properly – after Rose had departed that morning he had been too eager to be busy that anything more than a quick nap had been out of the question. Seven hours in Torchwood later and he was really edging towards the hysterical side of exhausted, his situation made worse by the fact that he kept forgetting his new body needed regular nutritious meals. No longer would the odd jar of jam or banana split satisfy his hunger for a few days (much to his dismay). More than anything, he was looking forward to a meal, a shower and a good long sleep.

However, the minute he entered the mansion he was accosted by a fussing Jackie, who pulled off his jacket and pushed him unceremoniously into the smaller of their sitting rooms. He was then almost knocked over by a blow to the abdomen – little Tony throwing himself at him in a bone-crushing cuddle. Clearly, this child was the type to get attached quickly, the sort-of-Doctor thought fondly.

"Hello!" he laughed, freed as quickly as he had been grabbed – Jackie, materialising from what seemed to be nowhere, scooped her son up and dumped him on the pillow and blanket covered couch, laughing at him.

"Leave the Doctor alone, he's just home! Me and your dad'll be in in a second – won't be long 'til Rose gets here with the pizzas," she grinned, ruffling the boy's hair before looking up at the sort-of-Doctor. "Get your bum settled in here, we're watching a film. Friday night is family night," she added almost aggressively, shoving him towards the sofa. He gave her a tight smile.

"I'm not- I'm not family," he said softly. Jackie's eyes softened infinitesimally.

"You're family if I say you're family, you plum. Don't forget I've already adjusted to finding a second copy of a person I thought I'd never see again. You're not all that impressive as far as little ol' me is concerned," she shot back with a smile so like her daughter's. Before a reply could be given, a voice from the hall cried, "Pizza's here!"

A few minutes later, Rose entered the sitting room carrying five cardboard boxes of various sizes, the smell of melted cheese and various topping saturating the warm air. She grinned at Tony and nodded politely at the sort-of-Doctor, not letting her eyes linger on him. Tony was straight away at her side, clamouring for the smallest of the boxes.

"Here you are, sweetheart," she grinned, passing it down to him. "Wait until mum and dad are in and sat down before you eat, mind," she added. The little boy nodded and placed his box carefully on the coffee table in front of him, keeping his eyes fixed on it as though it might run away if left unattended.

"Got you your favourite – is chicken and mushrooms still your favourite? Sorry, should have asked. Yours might be different," Rose murmured apologetically, passing the sort-of-Doctor a box with her eyes sorrowfully downcast. He took a deep sniff and felt his mouth begin to water.

"Smells fantastic. Can't wait to taste it – new, new, new tongue and all that," he grinned, winking at her without properly processing the action in his still brilliant mind. She blushed a little, setting the boxes alongside Tony's on the table and leaving the room with an unintelligible mutter.

Soon, they were all seated with their pizza box on their lap, watching the opening credits of that nights viewing – Beauty and the Beast, as promised. Tony was wedged in between Rose and the sort-of-Doctor on the comfy old couch, looking in his element to be in between his big sister and new best friend. Pete and Jackie sat curled on the loveseat nearby, the picture of young love (even if they were no longer _that_ young). They sat in companionable silence, now and again indulging in brief, light hearted conversation or laughing at some silly remark made by Tony. At one point the sort-of-Doctor just had to speak – his gob was still quite unstoppable, hard as he may try.

"Of course, a feat such as that could be achieved in the real world by simply overhauling the cellular matrix of the object in question, escalating the core processors tenfold and creating a shield around-"

"You're making that up!" Rose laughed, reaching over the head of her little brother and ruffling the sort-of-Doctor's hair in an offhand kind of way. The man grinned back.

"Watch the hair! That takes me ages! And anyway, I am not making it up, it's simple physics. I could do it right now."

"Prove it."

"_Well_, I can't _right this second_ but as soon as I've got the equipment… Just you wait, Rose Tyler," he laughed, feeling his heart stutter as she gazed back at him open mouthed.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop for her. There he was, her Doctor. He seemed to make appearances just when she was least expecting him to. The cocky grin, the sexy little smirk, the way he said her name. It just made no _sense_. This man wasn't him – and yet, back in the old world, when they had talked and laughed on board the TARDIS with the other companions… It was enough to drive a girl mad, and having been close to the brink quite a few times in the last several years, it wasn't a road she wanted to hurry down again anytime soon. Barely two days had passed since the metacrisis, and she'd gone through more emotions than she could count; vacillating between yearning to be near him and craving as much distance as she could get. Rose was growing more certain by the second that a few days completely removed from the situation would prove beneficial. She returned her attention to the film, resting her cheek on the top of Tony's head – his fluffy blonde hair tickled her nose and comforted her. In turn, the little boy snuggled into the sort-of-Doctor, who smiled gently down at him.

"Getting sleepy, boss man?" he asked, his voice soft and low.

"Nope…" Tony replied, nodding his head ever so slightly.

"Film is nearly finished. It's nearly time for your favourite song; once that's done you can go to bed," Pete laughed at his son.

"Can I skip the kissy bit?"

"I think the kissy bit happens after, sweetheart," Jackie giggled, deliberately leaning up from her position reclining on Pete's chest to kiss her husband's cheek.

"Mummy! Stop it!"

"Sorry sweetheart," she laughed, sliding her arm around Pete's waist and cuddling closer. Rose glanced over at her mother and sort-of-father with a wistful smile. They looked so at peace, so happy with one another. She wanted that.

Tony chose that moment to begin squirming in delight – his favourite song had begun. The household objects danced around the colossal ballroom, cleaning, tidying and singing about how wonderful it would be for them to turn back into humans. Out of the corner of his eye, the sort-of-Doctor could see Rose's body shaking slightly with supressed mirth and he turned his head slightly to see what all the hilarity was. The young woman turned her eyes towards him, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing out loud – with a jolt, he realised she was laughing at _him_. He supposed he could see the joke – his Time Lord self had been nothing more than an angry little clock, who had now been turned into an angry little human. Really, though, it was quite funny. Grinning back at her, the sort-of-Doctor shook his head and tried to concentrate on the screen, but to no avail. She continued to titter into her palm, earning some very irritated glances from her little brother.

"Rosie you're **ruining** it!" he squealed, kicking his little legs unhappily and crossing his arms, turning his back on his sister and falling face first onto the sort-of-Doctor's chest. "Tell her to shut up, Doctor," he muttered into the fabric of the man's red t-shirt, curling his legs up towards his own body and apparently losing all interest in the film. The sort-of-Doctor gasped, pretending to be scandalised. He looked pleadingly at Jackie, realising quickly that Rose would be no help – she was now howling with laughter, the corners of her eyes crinkling adorably.

Jackie jumped in straight away. "Tony Tyler! That is _no_ way to speak to your big sister! Say sorry to her this instant!"

"Won't."

"Tony!"

"Make her say sorry first!"

"Rose Tyler, apologise to Tony!"

Rose managed to supress her laughter under her mother's terrifying gaze. Several deep breaths later she schooled her features into a regretful mask and leaned down to the little figure next to her. She rested the side of her head on his and rubbed his back gently, fighting back a giggle as she spied the sort-of-Doctor holding his breath so he didn't laugh along with her.

"I'm sorry Tony. I didn't mean to ruin your favourite song."

"You're a bad sister."

"But you're a _brilliant_ brother," she whispered, leaning down further and nudging his tiny ear with the tip of her nose. He turned his face towards her a little then, the briefest suggestion of a smile beginning to play on his lips.

"You're not a bad sister," he amended. "I'm sorry I asked the Doctor to tell you to shut up."

"That's alright, ya plum. Give me a hug," she chuckled, scooping him into her arms and crushing him to her chest; leaning heavily on the sort-of-Doctor as she did so.

They watched the next ten minutes of the movie in this posture – the sort-of-Doctor wedged into the corner of the couch, arm around the back, Rose settled in at his side with her legs tucked underneath her and Tony snuggled on her lap, quickly falling into a peaceful sleep. They refused to acknowledge their turbulent feelings for a while – this brief interlude was comfortable, calm and companionable (the sort-of-Doctor came up with that himself and was very pleased with the alliteration), and only allowed it to be broken when Tony emitted a soft snore.

"Best get the little terror to bed," Jackie smiled, sitting up and stretching as Pete crossed the room and bundled his son into his arms, departing swiftly and silently so as to not wake him. "I'll go make some hot chocolate. Either of you two fancy some? Might as well see the end of the bleedin' film now," she added, not pausing to find out if they did want the drinks – it seemed she was going to make them regardless.

Once they were alone, Rose sat up straight and edged towards the opposite end of the couch, trying to ignore the faint fluttering in her stomach. She scolded herself – she wasn't a kid anymore, this kind of reaction wasn't acceptable. The film wore on and the Belle confessed her love for the Beast. The sort-of-Doctor leaned forward, concentrating hard as the creature rose into the air and changed into a man; glowing lights erupted from his fingers and toes as his form changed, his cellular make up re-writing from the inside out. Almost like regeneration. The silence – so comfortable only a moment ago – became heavy and loaded with tension. When Belle looked into the Prince's eyes and exclaimed, "It is you!" before kissing him passionately, the sort-of-Doctor made a strange sound: a rumbling groan from deep in his chest. Rose couldn't bear to look at him.

How had Belle accepted this change so easily? Didn't she mourn for the loss of the Beast she had fallen in love with? It seemed remarkably heartless to completely forget the creature he had been before, or the events that had gotten him into that particular sticky situation in the first place. The sleepy contentment that had washed over her that evening immediately disintegrated and she jumped to her feet, eager to get home and have a good old scream into her pillows.

"Rose?" the sort-of-Doctor asked, startled at her sudden shift of mood and position. She didn't look at him.

"It's getting late. I promised my friend Mandy I'd have lunch with her tomorrow so I want a good sleep – haven't seen her for ages. Will you be here next week?"

"Um… Well, I… I know you want me to go but the TARDIS is ensconced at Torchwood now and I really can't leave her… I'm sorry," he muttered, standing up and planting his feet widely on the plush carpet. She noticed how strange it was to see him without a tie and with his arms bare – another change she might never get used to.

"S'fine. Pretty sure you shouldn't be left on your own anyway… You heard the Doctor. You're dangerous."

Before he had the change to open his famous gob to make a most Donna-ish reply, Rose had turned on her heel and left. He closed his mouth with a _click_ and dropped back to the couch, defeated**.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed/favourited/followed so far, it means a lot! Please continue to do so and enjoy. x**

* * *

The first thing the sort-of-Doctor was aware of was being inside a cocoon. He'd never been in a cocoon before, and he had to admit that it was surprisingly pleasant. Warm. Safe. He decided blearily that he'd remain in here for as long as he could – maybe until the beast he was could regenerate into a prince. Until then, however, he'd stay here.

The next thing he was aware of was the grumbling from his stomach – apparently this useless human body was hungry _yet again_, something which he didn't think he'd ever get used to. He fought hard to ignore the sensation of his stomach gnawing itself from the inside. The difficulty of this task increased a hundredfold when two more sensations assaulted his senses at once – the loud buzzing of something outside his cocoon and the sharp aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He wrinkled his nose; his peace was being ruined by these intrusions, but he stubbornly curled further into a ball, screwing his eyes shut.

The final straw, shattering the illusion of safety, comfort and belonging, came in the form of someone prodding him through his cocoon; he grumbled incoherently and opened one eye slowly, followed by the other. His eyes met the underside of the cream duvet cover, sunlight filtering through the thick quilt and encasing him in a warm golden glow. Suddenly, he found himself rolling sideways as the duvet was pulled out from under him, unwrapping from around his body and casting him unceremoniously into the overly bright bedroom. Jackie stood beside the bed, one hand on her hip and the other clutching the corner of the duvet. Her pencilled in eyebrow was raised in amusement as she indicated the tray on the bedside table.

"Doctor, it's past midday! I brought up a little bit of brekkie for you – don't worry, I didn't cook it! I'll see you downstairs whenever your majesty feels like getting up…" she chuckled, tossing the cover back at him and tootling from the room, closing the door behind her with a sharp _snap_. The sort-of-Doctor took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, allowing the heavy mantle of sleep to slide slowly from him. He had to admit, sleep was something that had been nothing more than a boring pit stop as a Time Lord, and one he thankfully didn't have to make very often. Now, however… Sleep was something he could get used to. He hadn't felt so relaxed in oh, say, a few hundred years?

He stretched languorously and sat up, reaching out his left hand to pick up the steaming mug of coffee from the tray. Carefully, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the hot liquid and took some into his mouth – taste had always been his most powerful sense in this regeneration, and the explosion of bitterness on his taste buds seemed to confirm that this hadn't changed when he had become half human. Trans-cinnamic acids, quinic acid, _p_-coumaroylquinic acids – having never had proper brewed coffee before, the sort-of-Doctor felt thoroughly agog at the knowledge of how often humans willingly consumed such a foul, acid-reflux inducing beverage. He drank the whole mug in one, determined that he wouldn't hurt Jackie's feelings on this – he'd done enough damage. The hot buttered toast was quick to follow, and he once again tested his taste buds: carotene, oleic acid… nothing unusual there. He licked the remnants off his fingers, far preferring the silky texture and slight tang of salt to the flavour of the coffee.

Springing out of bed, he barrelled out of the door still in his borrowed pyjamas and all but ran down the stairs: his usual sense of urgency had returned and the sort-of-Doctor knew he wouldn't be able to abide sitting still for as long as he had yesterday.

"Jackieeee?" he called brightly, ruffling his hair and grinding to a halt in the hallway. "Jackieeeeee?" he cried again, more insistently this time. The woman in question arrived before him just as he filled his lungs to shout again. She looked amused.

"Oh, it's himself!" she laughed, quirking an eyebrow and raking her gaze up and down his lanky frame. "You didn't bother gettin' dressed, then?"

"Dressed?" he queried, placing his hands on his hips and rocking backwards on his heels. "Why would I want to get dressed? I'm only going to visit the TARDIS, she won't mind my jimjams."

"You are _not _going to visit her yet, Doctor. Later on, maybe, but there's more important things to be done today. I'm taking you shopping."

The sort-of-Doctor stopped dead, one foot raised on his way towards the opposite wall which he had, of course, intended to lick. He brought it back to rest beside the other and turned on the spot, jaw loose and mouth hanging open.

"What?"

"Shopping, I said. We're gonna go into London proper and get you some new clothes – can't have you wearing that bleedin' blue suit every day now can we?"

"What?"

"I mean I know you used to but Rose said the TARDIS could clean stuff in ten seconds flat – our little old washing machine can't. You're gonna need some underwear and your own pyjamas and maybe some proper shoes – you can't go running around in trainers all the time, you know!"

"_What_?"

"And some jeans for slobbing around in. You can't be comfortable in suits **all **the time, can you? And some spandy new ties; Rose loves it when you wear a tie."

"I'm not going _shopping_!" he screeched, face contorting in horror. "Normal shopping, yes, but clothes shopping? With you? _Well…_" he trailed off, drawing out the word like he so liked doing. The very thought of traipsing around central London like some bloody tourist buying dress shoes and **jeans** inspired more horror in him than the Time War and a bowlful of pears put together. She couldn't be serious. He was sure of it – she couldn't be…

Apparently, she was. Jackie Tyler pursed her lips and stepped so close to him she could hear his heartbeat. Tilting her head right back she glared at him, chin poking uncomfortably into his bony chest. Several tense seconds passed as she stared him down – and into submission.

"You go and get ready _right _now, Doctor! I mean it!"

"But-"

"Now!"

* * *

Selfridges was; as far as the sort-of-Doctor was concerned; the deepest circle of hell, reserved for only those who had committed the worst kind of crime against humanity – earning too much money and spending it on pointlessly expensive objects they didn't need. His dislike of it had been increased immediately when, on passing a salesman in the perfume department, he had opened that infamous gob again.

"So, Selfridges… You don't happen to, you know… _sell fridges_, do you?" he'd chuckled, only to find himself recoiling from the icy glare fixed on him by the man holding the atomiser. Jackie had apologised profusely on his behalf, and the sort-of-Doctor couldn't understand why he was so irrationally angry about her mithering. However, on account of her being Rose's mother, he'd allowed her to usher him upstairs to the men's department. It was with a most Donna-esque pout he'd accepted the jeans and casual t-shirts she'd thrust at him, recognising with a pang the way he thrust his jaw sideways and exhaled impatiently – how very Donna Noble indeed. His frustration increased when she'd forced him into trying on a pair of shiny black dress shoes with a three figure price tag that made his eyes water (he also recognised exaggerated hip wiggle as he inspected the shoes in the mirror as a Donna-ism, the only reason he submitted to buying them).

However, the moment the sort-of-Doctor stumbled miserably into the suit department, his eyes lit up and a wide grin crossed his previously dejected face. With all the energy of a child in a sweet shop he bundled his new clothes into Jackie's arms and tore off, inspecting the stitching of sleeves, the texture of material, the carefully crafted pockets and creases and tapers and- He was awash with joy in this world: for a brief while he could forget he was the Doctor, forget he was dangerous, forget he was hated by the woman he loved most, and just enjoy the experience of a new suit.

In the end he picked out three – two blue, one black. The blue were similar to the one he was wearing – rusty pinstripe cutting through the sumptuous blue. The black was a carbon copy of the Tuxedo of Doom as he'd fondly called it; he was sure it would be far less unlucky, as this was a parallel world it could _only_ become more lucky, couldn't it? Jackie was confused as to why he refused to buy the brown suit shot through with blue he stared at so longingly. The sort-of-Doctor shook his head, dropping the sleeve quickly when she'd caught him looking.

"Nah. Not really my colour," he said with a shrug, turning towards the shirts and ties. He had a field day here too, picking out every variation of red, blue and black he could get his hands on, including a dapper looking bow tie he was pretty sure he would never actually wear. Trainers came next – three new pairs of Converse hi-tops in blue, black and red. Jackie knew better this time than to suggest he buy the off white ones he'd once favoured. Hair gel, underwear (boxer briefs, he'd insisted, were all he would were… on the odd occasion he bothered to wear them: Jackie felt sick at the thought), a cup of coffee in the tearoom. He became more wired than ever, and Jackie began to wonder if coffee was really a good idea when it came to the Doctor.

Soon, they traipsed down Oxford Street, the sort-of-Doctor whining about walking too far and the lack of the TARDIS and the rude people who constantly bumped into you without so much as a sorry. "_Well_, I can sympathise with always being in a hurry but I mean really, where's the common courtesy of the humans in this world? At least in the other one they'd apologise for knocking you on your backside," he muttered mutinously, turning and baring his teeth threateningly at a man who'd almost knocked him sideways into a rubbish bin while being too focused on his mobile phone. "Mobiles! The worst invention in all of time and the ruin of the human race!" the sort-of-Doctor continued to seethe. Jackie ignored him, typing furiously on her mobile phone.

"Doctor? Rose might come over tonight again for tea. How do you fancy chips?" she asked absently, not seeing the flash of pain that crossed his already crumpled face.

"I'm going to Torchwood once I've dropped these bags at your car. I want to spend some time with the TARDIS – she'll grow faster if I show her I'm still here."

"You don't have to stay away just because Rose'll be there, you know," she said gently, closing her phone with a sigh and sliding it into her pocket. The sort-of-Doctor nodded and gazed into the distance over the top of her head.

"Oh I know. I just miss the TARDIS, that's all. I think Rose needs some time apart from me anyway. The last few days have been hard for her; recoup with her family is exactly what she needs."

After a moment, Jackie shook her head angrily, her heavily made up eyes closing in disbelief.

"See, this is your problem, Doctor. You're forever making decisions for people because you always think you know what's **best**. Pull your head out your bum and just listen to what the rest of us want for a change, will you? I'm sick of it." She took a deep breath before continuing. "And you can stop your little self-pity pout too. You don't have to be right all the time; you don't have to be alone anymore. Give us half a chance and you could have a family."

"Jackie, I-"

"No, shut up. Here's the money for a taxi to Torchwood. I'll see you later," she snapped, thrusting twenty quid into his hand and grabbing his bags before turning and marching down the busy street, quickly swallowed by the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all those who are reviewing, favouriting and following! If you're reading and haven't reviewed yet, please do as I love to hear your feedback. I love this little story and can't get enough of writing it - I just dashed this chapter off after work today; inspiration keeps striking me as I think about how Ten2 and Rose's life together could begin. I hope you're enjoying it as much as me. x**

* * *

The next few days passed in a tedious blur; eat, sleep, visit the TARDIS, repeat. The sort-of-Doctor wasn't sure just exactly how long it had been since his argument with Jackie, and time passing in a linear fashion had never been his favourite way to live. He made a point of rising before everyone else, cramming some semblance of breakfast into his mouth (usually a banana if he could get his hands on one) before trudging off and jumping the train to Torchwood, paying any expenses he may have with the company card Pete had so generously loaned him. The rest of his day was spent in the tropically warm room that acted as an incubator for the tiny growing TARDIS, who was starting to settle into her new environment. His sharp eyes detected a 0.39% growth in her every time he spent the day with and spoke to her, and knew that before long she would be able to forge a telepathic connection with him; that was if he still possessed any kind of telepathic ability, of course. He doubted he did, but the presence of the other would be enough to keep both him and the ship going.

Pete had arranged for a plush sofa to be brought into the TARDIS room, which was where the sort-of-Doctor was currently reclined, the book he had been reading resting on his chest. He'd fallen asleep, thick rimmed black glasses askew (he'd spotted these in the window of Boots and couldn't resist buying them, even if he didn't need them – old habits die hard indeed). It was either sleep here or wander aimlessly around the business district of London: he had become so restless, having to remain in one place for so long with no hope of escaping any time soon. Not seeing Rose was also taking its toll, but the sort-of-Doctor was surprised how easily he had reverted to type in this respect… it was so easy to be lonely, so easy to play the martyr. He slept on.

* * *

"Alright Clive? How're the new probes coming along?" Rose grinned, throwing herself into the spinning chair and leaning forward. Clive Rivkin, even with impossibly strong glasses, found it very difficult to see more than three inches in front of his face. He smiled absently at her, his mind obviously still focused on the calculations in front of him.

"Fine, Rose! Just excellent, actually. They'll be ready to be deployed within the next month. It's all very exciting," he said, trailing off and returning his attention to the pages of numbers and symbols that looked, to Rose, like a calculator had vomited all over the paper. The blonde pressed her lips together impatiently.

"Haven't seen your hero around here recently have you?" she pressed, dropping her friend an innocent smile and leaning nonchalantly on her palm. Clive squinted briefly in her direction.

"Your father? He's in his office."

"No, not _Pete_, you plum. The other one. Probably wearing a suit?"

"Oh!" She really had his attention now: his bleary eyes lit up with brightness something akin to real worship. "You mean the Doctor?"

"Yeah. Him."

"He's in CP6. Don't know what he does in there every day – comes in about six when the cleaner is just leaving and leaves just before me… Nine-ish?"

"How does he look?"

"Tired, mostly. And bored."

"He stays here all day? Doesn't leave _at all_?" she frowned; her Doctor wasn't the type to remain in one place for so long. Four walls made him jittery. Clive had started to lose interest again, his left hand inching back towards the pencil he had dropped in his excitement. A small crease had appeared between his eyebrows now, and his tone was far less pleasant when he next spoke.

"Rose, I don't keep tabs on him, none of us do. Mr Tyler told us to leave him alone, so we do. If it bothers you so much, go and see him!" he sighed heavily, jabbing the point of his pencil threateningly in her direction. She took this as a hint to get moving, and off she toddled to CP6. Her gentle knock on the door was met with silence, so she entered, angry words poised on the tip of her tongue.

Rose's voice caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her. The sort-of-Doctor was spread out, long and lithe as ever, with a book on his chest and those damned sexy glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. The small piece of TARDIS coral sat on a plinth in the middle of the room, a very faint golden glow shimmering around her. The air was hot, damp and heavy – Rose felt it weighing in on her from all sides. It reminded her slightly of a school history trip she'd taken in her last year to somewhere in South America – Jackie had had to sell a family heirloom to pay for it. A soft snore escaped the sort-of-Doctor and she smiled fondly, crossing over and sliding the glasses from his face, folding the legs and placing them neatly on the little side table. A sly glance at his book told her he'd been reading to the growing time ship; Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. There were a few minor changes to the plot in this world, but it remained essentially the same story the Doctor so adored. Prising the book from his hands, she settled down on the floor at the end of the couch and picked up from where he had left off. Nervously, she cleared her throat.

"Chapter Seven: The Sorting Hat."

The sort-of-Doctor lay awake and listened to her voice; intonation, pitch, pace, clarity, emotion – it was all there, and he was delighted to find that she even did all the different voices just like him. He thrilled to listen to her speak uninterrupted, and found her presence just as soothing as that of the TARDIS. She read on and on, getting through three chapters before she paused and closed the book, leaning her head back against the couch with her eyes closed.

"How long have you been awake?" Rose muttered, massaging her right temple with the tips of her fingers. Reading for extended periods always gave her headaches because the moment she became engrossed, she leaned as far in to the page she could get – her nose and paper were practically magnetised. The sort-of-Doctor smiled impishly.

"Long enough to know that I'm still dying to try on the Sorting Hat," he replied with a grin, throwing his eyes skyward at the blindingly white ceiling. Rose snorted.

"Were you even asleep when I came in?"

"Must have been, I didn't hear you. Your voice woke me up, that's all," he finished, twining his fingers together and sliding them under his head, noting with annoyance how flat his hair had become in recent days. They were silent for a moment, until he piped up again. "Which house do you think you'd be in?"

"I dunno… Hufflepuff? You're a definite Gryffindor though," she replied, stretching up and sliding awkwardly onto the end of the couch, nudging his feet away with her hip. The sort-of-Doctor wrinkled his nose.

"_Nah_. You're the brave one, so you're Gryffindor. I'm either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin."

"Never a Slytherin, mate."

"Why not?"

She paused, worrying her bottom lip with straight white teeth. Her mind whirred into overdrive, but she was surprised to find that she honestly meant her next words.

"Because you're too _good_," she whispered, admittedly spitting out the final word like it disgusted her. He laughed derisively.

"Only you could say that and make it sound like an insult!"

"It was meant to be a compliment, actually. Sort of," she retorted, turning to face him with her legs in a basket and arms folded to match. Sitting up straight, the sort-of-Doctor did his Donna pout again and stared into her blazing eyes, refusing to be the one to back down. Rose, apparently, had taken the same tack and they eventually broke eye contact at the same moment once it had become too uncomfortable.

"How's the TARDIS doing?" the blonde asked lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension that had escalated very quickly between them. The sort-of-Doctor looked sideways at the coral, his eyes becoming faraway.

"She's doing well. At this rate she'll be ready in just under a year, then I'll be out of your hair. For good."

The finality in his tone startled Rose: their relationship was too complicated for him to be making point blank statements like that, and she resented the implication that he was something she really wanted rid of, like… Like a tummy bug, or something. She poked at the thick rubber sole of her shoe as she considered her next words carefully. Her eyes downcast, she spoke as if learning a new language.

"You know, you wouldn't have to leave… Right away. Without me, I mean. We could… Y'know… Maybe take a trip or two? For old time's sake?"

She looked up and saw that his eyes had hardened into that Oncoming Storm glare that either sent her weak at the knees or trembling in terror; this time it was the latter. He looked utterly furious as a biting, bitter smile crossed his face, tongue poking maliciously through his teeth.

"Of course, that's how it is. Once I can give you the universe, you want me again."

"That's not what I-"

He was suddenly on his feet, pacing backwards and forwards while clutching at fistfuls of his hair like a madman. He didn't look at her as he continued, his voice rising in determination and pitch with every word. He threw his head backwards and looked skyward as if proclaiming his outrange to some higher being or deity.

"Of **course** that's what you meant! I left you behind what I thought you wanted – **me**! Forever! A version of me that you could work your magic on all over again; a _man_ who could tell you his feelings and love you the way you should be loved and even give you a family one day if you wanted it. All I asked in return was a hand to hold – but then I was as stupid as ever and told you that I was dangerous and now you can't bear to look at me, and just because I'm not a completely unattainable clone you don't want me! Until, of course, I get my little blue box of magic back and can take you soaring through the stars again. It was never _me_ you loved, it was **that!** How could I have been so **idiotic**?" The sort-of-Doctor continued to rant in a language Rose couldn't understand; a melodic sound punctuated by guttural snarls of rage.

Her own blood boiled and she uncurled slowly, planting one foot stoically on the floor, followed soon by the other. Balling her hands into fists, she put one trainer clad foot in front of the other, crossing the room until she stood in the sort-of-Doctor's path. When he stopped dead and glared down at her, she put her hand to his chest and shoved him backwards, top lip curled back over her teeth.

"Are you _angry_?" she cried, pushing him again, harder this time. He stared down at her wordlessly. "Do you feel _abandoned_? That you left yourself here without a ship and only little me for comfort?"

Still he looked at her, corners of his mouth turning down dangerously as his nostrils flared. She yearned to give him a good hard punch in the face, but she held it back. "Are you _angry_? Answer me! Do you know how it feels yet?" Her final punch came, not with a physical blow, but a verbal one. "Are you angry, _human_?"

The sort-of-Doctor's heart dropped at the word, and frantic tears pricked behind his brown eyes. This was the kind of situation he should be running from. Instead of running, he found himself lurching forward and grabbing his companion roughly around the waist. He lowered his face to hers, so close they were nose to nose. When he spoke, his voice was dangerous.

"Of course I'm fucking _angry_," he said, his breath dancing over her lips. The obscenity was so out of character, so unexpected, that she felt almost excited to hear it. Her eyelashes fluttered infinitesimally and her heartbeat stuttered.

"So. Am. I."

With that, he kissed her.

* * *

**Dun dun DUUUUUN. **

_**As you were.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow! I am so overwhelmed by the great response to the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone for reading, reviewing, favouriting and following; it means so much to me as I'm still so new to writing in this fandom. However, whatever fandom I'm writing in, one thing is always true... I like to prolong the agony for as long as possible. ;)**

**x**

* * *

In most reaches of most universes, the linear progression of time was an age old, thoroughly accepted concept. Each culture, planet, solar system and galaxy had their own standard variation of the same pattern – seconds became minutes, which in turn became hours, which then became days, and so on. There were very few exceptions to this rule – a time lock, for example, could sever events from the time vortex to make them unreachable. Similarly (although not really, but think of it as similar if it helps you), a stasis cube could suspend whole worlds in one moment to ensure their safety or containment. The Time Lords as a species – an arrogant, unforgiving species, one had to admit – could surpass all expectations with regards to life expectancy, and had ultimate control over the vast majority of time itself for ten million years.

Even after almost a thousand years of life, the sort-of-Doctor decided that another exception could be added to this list of disruptions – kissing Rose Tyler. As he pulled her roughly to him and crushed her unforgivingly to his chest, her hands snaked up and fisted in his hair, her anger burning him to the core. She responded to his every movement, pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall painfully hard, but she didn't seem to hear his grunt of pain. They seemed to have developed a time of their own – everything outside of their kiss no longer existed. Their entire world was anger and love and frustration and the yielding lips and body of the other. The sort-of-Doctor's heart pounded heavily; he wondered dully if he might have a heart attack with the intensity of the whole situation.

Rose scraped her nails slowly down the back of his neck, pondering whether or not she would draw blood. She half hoped she would – but then a thought struggled to the surface of her clouded brain. It was irrational, she knew; a little scratch wouldn't kill him. But the bigger picture, if anything dangerous should happen – if he bled now, he couldn't _really_ heal. Not in the way he could as a Time Lord. If he lost too much blood… He would die. She would lose him, properly, with no way at all to get back to him.

The next thing the sort-of-Doctor was consciously aware of was something slightly salty trickling into his open mouth. He pulled his head back with difficulty, the rage he had felt minutes before starting to ebb away. Looking down at Rose, he saw, much to his horror, she was crying. Rose hardly ever cried! He racked his brains, trying to distract her.

"Prolactin, leucine-enkephalin…" he muttered, reciting the chemical composition of her tears as it registered on his tongue. She stared up at him, frowning.

"What?"

"The biology of emotional tears. There are hormones in this kind of tears that actually reduces pain."

"Why're you telling me that _now_?" Her tone was clipped as she stepped away from him, wiping the offending tears irritably from her eyes. The sort-of-Doctor quirked his eyebrow and stuck his tongue out, waggling it at her suggestively.

"Still got superior taste buds," he smirked. "And hearing – I can still hear when your heartbeat picks up when you're near me. And smell, while we're at. I always could smell-"

She pressed a finger to his lips then, desperate to silence him before he said something embarrassing. He had that familiar swagger about him now, preening at the knowledge of the effect he had always had on her. Another tear slipped unbidden down her cheek and the sort-of-Doctor immediately stepped forward, taking her face in his large hands far more gently than before. He stroked the treacherous tear away with the pad of his thumb and gazed at her with unveiled adoration – his mood had always been able to switch on a sixpence.

"I think I understand what he meant now," she mumbled, covering his hand with hers and meeting his eyes tentatively. Not understanding, he quirked his head. "When he left us on the beach. I said you weren't him… He didn't deny that, but said that _he _was _you_. Does that make sense?"

"Of course it makes sense to _me_, I said it! I'm not him… I'm half human. But he is me. _Well_," he paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the words. "We _are_ the same actual **person**, aside from a few tiny little things. I'm him if he was half human, half Time Lord. What he meant was I'm not _him_ because he's a full Time Lord. There's also another me who can be completely human, but he's very boring… And a little bit wimpy. Cried a bit when he found out he was an alien, if my memory serves me right."

"Bit confusing," Rose breathed, screwing up her face as she tried to understand a word of what he'd just said. She tried to form her thoughts coherently. "So, basically… He's you, but you're not exactly him, but you are him if he was half human?"

"Basically. If you want to put it in toddlers terms, yes."

"And if you met the totally human version of yourself, would you leave him behind?"

"Oh, he's not dangerous! Harmless stick insect – could leave him without worrying. Me, though… I shouldn't exist, _and_ I committed genocide. Again."

"But why couldn't he just have taken us both with him? You being half human and all, surely that wouldn't have created a paradox, would it?"

The sort-of-Doctor knitted his eyebrows together and pressed his lips into a hard line. His next sentence was short and simple.

"Time Lord pride."

"Say again?"

"_Time. Lord. Pride._ I'm a version of him that he'd rather not remember – the one that made an impossible choice – he didn't want to be reminded of that every day. He hates himself enough without a living reminder to look at for another however many years. Time Lord pride was also why I never told you how I felt – I couldn't. I was physically unable to, because Gallifreyan psychology views humans as a less developed race. No matter how much I love Earth, or the human race, or _you_… I couldn't say it. Much as I wanted to."

Rose's mind was reeling, and she shook her head to try and clear it. The way the man before her had to easily slipped into saying 'I' made her heart ache – moment by moment her Doctor seemed to be taking shape before her eyes. But it was too much, too fast! It had been a little under than two weeks since they parted on Bad Wolf Bay. The wounds of abandonment were still too fresh, and stung even more deeply to hear her race spoken about as lesser creatures. One thing irked her more, though. If he still had a Time Lord brain, how could he now express his feelings so easily? When she asked as much, a conspiratorial smirk stole onto his face. His answer was one single, shining word.

"Donna."

Rose cocked her head, needing further explanation. The sort-of-Doctor sighed deeply and continued in his best patronising tone, "Donna, human. Me, Time Lord," he said, using his hands to illustrate his point. "Her human curiosity wins out in the face of death and she touches my spare hand. I'm created. I've got the mind of a Time Lord, but some of Donna's traits were transferred to me – the human body, for one. The attitude, the slight outbursts of a London accent, the occasional hip wiggle – and her passion. Her willingness to love and express love without restraint."

His eyes were soft as butter as he said this, and Rose felt a surge of affection for the loud mouthed, ginger, best-temp-in-Chiswick Ms Noble.

So, he was partly Donna; not 'basically' her Doctor at all. She momentarily rejected him again, seeing him as a poor copy of the man she'd loved. After this second, possibly even more intense kiss, however… Everything he said, brain melting though it was, made sense.

"I want to try," she said. "I want to try and be your friend again and… And maybe more. But we take it slow, yeah?"

"Whatever you want."

"And… When I'm ready. When I know. How will I let you know?"

"What do you mean?" he quizzed, running an absentminded hand through his hair.

"Like, when I'm ready to admit to myself that you're essentially the same man. How will you know?" It shamed her to even have to admit that she still wasn't sure, but she was sure that spending some time with him would help her. As well as that, she was still fuming with her Doctor, and knew that would take some time to work through (a part of her mind purred something about more kissing, but she silenced it before it could form further dirty thoughts than she already had). The sort-of-Doctor's mouth quirked into a lopsided little smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he looked at her fondly.

"I'll know," he breathed, "when you hold my hand, and call me Doctor."

On reflection, Rose really had to marvel at her own self-control. If it hadn't been for the melodramatic thoughts about him dying, she was pretty sure that after a few more minutes she might well have been forced to shag the sort-of-Doctor senseless. Under normal circumstances she might have blushed at the thought, but she knew now that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him, and now there was potential to act on it. Angry sex wouldn't have solved anything though – or would it? It may well have proved the answer to all their problems. With a gulp and a deep breath Rose struggled to control her mind as it began to wander down a distinctly less than innocent path – the very thought of teeth and groans and hands made her heart stutter and her temperature rise, something which she knew the sort-of-Doctor would notice.

He was smirking arrogantly now, as it happened, and she half wondered if he could perhaps read her thoughts. Or maybe he was having very similar thoughts of his own. She bit her lip and stared at the floor as they walked in silence towards her car; she never minded driving in the city centre, and had offered him a lift back to the Tyler mansion and some chips. He had agreed and settled into an amicable, friendly conversation wholly reminiscent of the many they had shared over the years. Rose found herself glancing at his lips as he spoke, wondering if he would kiss her again or if it would be unacceptable to totally discard her anger and – no. She couldn't. They had much to discuss and much air to clear; that she was all too aware of.

* * *

Soon, they were settled in a little car park on a hill near the mansion. It had a spectacular view of London – on a clear summer's day (which, being November, this was not) the imposing dome of St. Pauls Cathedral was just visible on the horizon. They sat in companionable silence with their feet on the dashboard and chips in their lap, still half wrapped in brown paper. Rose knew her car would stink of vinegar for days, but was too nervous about the situation to care. She chewed contemplatively on a chip as she formed her next sentence.

"What you said before, about me only loving the travelling. It's not true," she said, straining her eyes as she fought to see the Shard through the growing gloom. The sort-of-Doctor nodded, although she didn't see.

"I know. I'm so sorry about that, I was just –"

"Angry? Yeah, think I got that," she sniggered cheekily, giving him her hundred watt smile.

"Still am, of course. It's even confusing for a Time Lord when you try to compute being angry at yourself but not yourself."

Rose laughed lightly. "I can imagine!"

"It's good that I've got you, for however long you want me. We can be angry together. We can scream and shout at each other and not take it personally…" he paused to pop a chip into his mouth. "At least I hope we can. Is that okay?" His eyes were guarded as he awaited her reply.

"I think that's the best idea you've had all day," she said smilingly, before adding in an undertone, "_Apart from the sexy angry snogging_."

The sort-of-Doctor choked on his chip at that, and turned to her with a disbelieving smile on his face that made her tummy squirm.

"Excuse me Miss Tyler but _what_ did you just say?!" he laughed, clearing his throat with a hacking cough. She patted his back until he regained breath, slightly amused – she had forgotten he would be able to hear her.

"Not a thing, Doc-"

He quickly shook his head and pressed a greasy hand to her mouth, his brown eyes wide and slightly afraid.

"Don't call me that. Not yet. Remember what we said."

Rose was surprised at this vehement exclamation and her own natural slip, but nodded slowly, resisting the urge to shake his hand off – the smell of chips this close to her nose was making her feel sick. He removed it on his own with an apologetic grimace, handing her a napkin from the plastic bag by his feet.

"What should I call you then? I've been calling you the sort-of-Doctor inside my head. Or _him_. Or that _bast-_"

"Charming!"

"Well I'm still pissed at you, Time Lord or human. What am I gonna call you, though?" She sniggered as a thought hit her, remembering his origins. "How about… Handy?"

The sort-of-Doctor waggled his head at her, feigning amusement. "Just try it, Tyler."

"Well _what_ then? Nurse?"

"You're enjoying this, you little sod!" he moaned, tossing a chip at her in a fit of annoyance. She raised her eyebrow, grinning again.

"The sort-of-Doctor… Sod?"

"How about John Smith? That's my human name."

"How _boring_!"

"_Oh yes_! Boring, but brilliant. Just like me. Except the boring bit. Just brilliant. And a little bit foxy," he grinned his wide grin and leaned back against the seat, his mind filled with images of an all boys' school and a matron named Joan. Rose gnawed at the inside of her cheek for a moment as she considered the proposition. It wasn't ideal, but until she could bear to call him by his name again (if that ever happened), maybe John would do.

She took a deep breath through her nose and nodded, crumpling up her empty paper and shoving it into the back seat.

"All right then," she grimaced. "John Smith it is."


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again, thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. Please continue to do so and keep enjoying!**

* * *

How easy it was to fall into the old routine – dance around one another, flirt openly and do nothing about it. They made a point of only arranging to see one another two or three times a week, but met "accidentally" in Torchwood most days when Rose was in the office and the sort-of-Doctor with the TARDIS, who was now growing steadily and emanating a stronger golden glow. An entire six weeks went past in this fashion, and they managed to get by without fighting too much. There was the odd blow up, of course, but it normally ended with one of them storming out and returning with bleeding knuckles an hour or so later (several holes in the walls had been filled in during this time). They had mutely agreed that the romance side of their relationship could wait until they were ready… Much to their mutual disgust.

Christmas was fast approaching, and with only days to go the sort-of-Doctor was cornered by Jackie and her inquisition about the presents he had purchased for Rose 'so she didn't buy doublers'. He had stared into the woman's intense face with paling complexion, gabbling words he knew didn't exist in any kind of coherent language. Having been so wrapped up in their little friendship dance and growing the TARDIS, any thoughts of pointless gifts had been very far from his mind. It took around fifteen minutes and thirty three seconds of him rocking miserably in a corner to come up with some things she might like. Casting his mind back, he thought about adventures they had experienced together, and with a grin compiled a quick, comprehensive list of presents she would understand.

Firstly, a copy of "Reasons to be Cheerful", a compilation of the greatest hits of Ian Dury and the Blockheads (her giggle of, "You're a _punk_!" echoed pleasantly in his ears as he reminisced). A pair of her own Converse hi-tops – he knew she'd always wanted them – they would be pink, of course. Something to do with Queen Victoria; perhaps a biography of her life. Other gifts tumbled into his head, and soon he had a list of four or five to surprise her with, much to his glee. It irked him that he would still have to use the Torchwood company card, but try as he might, Pete refused to hire him as a Torchwood employee until he had some understanding of this universe (something which, he had to admit, made sense). The very thought of actually having to _shop_ turned his stomach, but this was for Rose. He had saved worlds, defeated enemies, travelled the universe; surely shopping for a human woman couldn't be that hard?

* * *

Rose approached the door cautiously, eyeing the cracked window pane and chipped paint with trepidation. It had taken her weeks to track down this address, and she still wasn't sure if the item in question was going to prove to be the one she was after. Her friend Mandy sat in the car a little way away in full view of the house, mobile phone at the ready if anything should go wrong. Surely it wouldn't, though? It was just a simple case of seeing a man about a coat. Nothing sleazy there. Nothing about this situation screamed danger at all… Not to the woman who had saved worlds, defeated enemies, travelled the universe… Not at all.

The door soon opened to reveal a tall, thin man with pale brown hair and thick black glasses. He smiled widely at Rose; he was quite disarming, and reminded her uncomfortably of the person this whole venture was for.

"Mrs Smith, I take it?" he queried, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms, appraising her with appreciative eyes. Rose gave a weak smile and nodded jerkily.

"That's me. Mrs Smith, wife to Mr Smith."

"I'm George. You're here about the coat, yes?"

"That's right."

"Present for Mr Smith?"

"Yep." She popped the 'p' without thinking about it – she had been out of that copycat habit for quite some time, and the recurrence amused her. George seemed to realise he wouldn't be getting much more out of her and laughed lightly, moving back from the door and motioning for her to follow. Rose glanced back at the car and gave Mandy an almost imperceptible nod before entering the bright, clean hallway. The front door remained open and George disappeared into a side room, emerging quickly with a large cardboard box in his arms. Holding it out to Rose, he gave her an encouraging half smile.

"You can check it before you take it, just to make sure it's the one you're looking for. I'm not sure why my dad got a hold of it but it's of no use to me; the only thing I know about it is what he told me. Janis Joplin gave him it."

Rose took the box from his arms and set it on the small table next to her. It was with great anticipation she opened the flaps of the box and dug through a plethora of polystyrene balls until the tips of her fingers hit the soft fabric underneath. With a grunt of effort she yanked the heavy coat from the box, scattering polystyrene everywhere and grinning as the cinnamon coloured suede lapels came into view. She had to hold her arms above her head to stop it pooling on the floor while she inspected it, but was soon satisfied that it was the garment she had been seeking.

A few silent moments passed as she carefully folded it and replaced it snugly within its' container, sweeping up the balls from the floor and tossing them back in on top to keep it protected. Turning to George, she yanked her purse out of her pocket and gave an elated grin.

"Okay, how much? Money no object," she queried, already unzipping her purse and grasping for fistfuls of cash. George shook his head hurriedly, waving his hands to stop her.

"No, no, you don't have to pay for it."

"What? Yeah, I kind of do, mate. If you're looking for payment other than money then you can f-"

"Nope, don't need that either. Janis gave it to my dad and said that someone would come looking for it one day. That day came and there you go, your coat."

He seemed insulted to the core that she suspected him to have ulterior motives. Rose was half afraid he would take the precious cargo from her again, but luckily he simply eyed her frostily and showed her to the door.

"Mrs Smith."

* * *

The sort-of-Doctor gazed proudly down at his contribution to the pile of gifts underneath the very non-violent Christmas tree. They were haphazardly wrapped, he had to admit – the sticky tape had somewhat embarrassingly gotten the better of him, and even worse – it showed. He knew that the recipients of the gifts would appreciate the time and effort he had put in – he'd even tied TARDIS blue ribbons around them (although this was partly to hide the ripped paper and clumps of stubborn tape). He'd asked for Rose's help with regards to gifts for the rest of the Tyler family, and she had happily supplied him with a list of ideas. He felt he should show some kind of gratitude to them for allowing him to live in their guest bedroom for so long – a 'few days' seemed to be turning into a few months.

Once the TARDIS was properly grown, however, he'd be out of here with a tip of his cap and a quick wave. Her growth rate was still steady, and she was noticeably growing now. In a few more months he would have to stop Rose visiting until the desktop theme had developed; no point in melting her mind, after all.

A childish excitement rose in him as he studied the pile, wondering which ones (if any) were for him, and what they might contain. The sort-of-Doctor glanced right and left before dropping to his knees and grabbing the nearest parcel, lifting it to his ear and shaking it. Four more gifts followed this before he heard an almost concealed snort behind him. He turned slowly, parcel still held to his ear guiltily. Rose sat on the arm of the couch, her eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You, _John_, are nothing but a big kid."

The sort-of-Doctor didn't like being called John, and Rose so very rarely called him anything at all that this utterance jarred and made him wrinkle his nose. He tossed the gift aside and stood up, brushing off his jeans and he did so. Rose snorted again, shaking her head as if to clear it.

"I still can't get over the sight of you in jeans and a t-shirt. It looks so weird! You've got, like, actual _arms_," she laughed.

"Yeah, well, your mother was determined she was going to make me dress down 'for Christmas Eve'. As soon as she goes to bed they'll be coming off."

"Oh, is that a promise?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!"

They were used to these kinds of interchanges, and always laughed about them as though they were only joking (of course, they weren't, and they both knew it). The sort-of-Doctor sat back on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in a habit that made Jackie cringe. Rose, however, sat next to him and mimicked his relaxed posture.

"Tony's so excited. You should have seen his little face a while ago when we were putting him to bed. Eyes screwed shut and everything so he couldn't see Santa coming," chuckled the woman, languidly stretching her leg into the air and pointing her toe – the perfect gymnastic line. She settled it back down again as the sort-of-Doctor replied.

"I can imagine. I can't wait to see _your_ face when you see what I've got you!" he grinned, weaving his fingers together and sliding them behind his head. Rose turned to him, head cocked to the side.

"Oh? And what _have_ you got me?"

"A real, working model of a Slitheen. It has all the sound effects and smell effects and _everything_."

"Right. Nice."

Barely two seconds after the disgusted words left his companions mouth, the sort-of-Doctor spluttered with laughter and threw one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in for an affectionate cuddle. "You, Rose Tyler, are what you would call a right _plum_. As if I'd tell you what I've got you before Christmas day! That's the tradition, you know."

"You'd better be kidding about the bloody Slitheen."

"Course I am!"

They fell silent for a moment, his cheek resting comfortably on the crown of her head. It still seemed strange to her to hear only one heartbeat underneath her ear. It was like a constant reminder of the man he wasn't, and yet it was also growing to be a promise of the man he was: one who could stay with her. She pondered for a moment, using her finger to trace random swirls on his navy t-shirt. He squirmed a little underneath her and she laughed.

"What's the matter?"

"You just wrote a _very_ rude word in Gallifreyan on my tummy and it tickled," he said, his tone playfully scolding. Rose pouted and tried to remember the shape she had made, determined to make him squirm again. As she tried, she continued to talk.

"You know, there is another Christmas tradition on my Earth. Pete's World doesn't really have it, but no-one would know if we broke the rules." As the sort-of-Doctor remained expectantly silent, she went on. "You're allowed to choose_ one_ present to open on Christmas Eve."

"Really? **Brilliant**! Let's do it!"

He leapt from the couch and she went flying sideways and onto the floor, landing painfully on her back. The sort-of-Doctor didn't seem to hear her grunt of pain as he skidded down in front of the tree; he grabbed for parcel after parcel to see which ones had his name on and which one he might want to open. Rose crawled over and deposited herself next to him, stilling his frantic hands with her own.

"I've got one for you that isn't under there – I couldn't get enough wrapping paper for it. I got mum to put it up in your room. Wanna go up and see it?"

The look in her eyes, the tone of her voice – the sort-of-Doctor gulped: he wasn't quite sure what she was angling at. Had she _really_ got him a present that she couldn't wrap? Or could she possibly be talking about – about herself? He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he considered the options – of _course _he was going to go upstairs with her. He was the one in the horror film that went into the basement alone. He could never resist the temptation to go _looking _for trouble, and this was yet another one of those times. Would he never learn?

* * *

"Alright, close your eyes," Rose murmured, closing his bedroom door softly behind her. The sort-of-Doctor did as he was bid, recognising the amount of faith he put in her: he would never willingly close his eyes for anything as it could so easily end in death, destruction or forced pear eating. A pair of gentle hands rested on his shoulders and he was guided deftly forwards towards the middle of the room. His heart thundered in his chest like a steam train – he half expected her to comment on how loud it was. Suddenly, he was bereft of her touch and the sound and smell of cardboard reached him. That confused him slightly, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. Maybe she had some weird kink he'd never guessed about?

Something was withdrawn from a box and another, even more familiar smell hit his nostrils: suede, wool and silk. That confused him even more. How could he be smelling _that_? Footsteps approached and something heavy was settled on his shoulders. A familiar weight, warm and comforting around his body. He heard Rose still a few feet away and her exhale was almost painful to listen to. She instructed him to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He knew what this was.

"Where did you get this?" he queried, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. A smile crept into Rose's voice.

"Janis Joplin left it with some guy, said someone would come for it one day. Thought you might like-"

"Even after all this time, when I've done my best to be the one you want, it's still _him_."

A heavy silence fell and the sort-of-Doctor breathed erratically through his nose, curling his fingers into fists then stretching them out again, like a cat extending its claws. He fought the urge to throw the treacherous coat off and run from the room – running had always been his thing, after all. He wasn't even angry this time – _well_, he was, but in a different way. Angry at himself for daring to believe it might actually end up being him she wanted; that she could be satisfied with the human version (albeit with an unfortunate attitude and the occasional hip wiggle). Over and above, bubbling rejection and defeat simmered in the pit of his stomach. He could feel Rose's horror emanating off her in agonising waves. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"I thought you would like it."

"_Well_, you thought wrong, didn't you? I thought you'd like _me_ but hey, what do I know?"

The sort-of-Doctor opened his eyes at that, shrugging the offending coat off and laying it carefully across his bed. Rose shook her head in disbelief – she couldn't understand where this had come from. She had been trying to show him how she felt – that she was starting to _accept_ him! How dare he throw it in her face?

"Can't you see that I was trying to – that I – it's not – I can't stand this anymore!" she screeched, her voice rising progressively with every failed sentence. With an almost animalistic snarl she whirled from the room, slamming the door loudly in her wake.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: I am not, nor do I claim to be, a smut writer. I attempted this about eight times, and here is the final result. Slightly distracted as David Tennant was on TV in Secret Smile, but whatever. No excuses. Please, be kind! And thank you to everyone for your support so far, it's much appreciated. New fandom, and all that. x**

* * *

The sort-of-Doctor had precisely five point three four seconds to process his anger and hurt before the door was thrown open again, and Rose came barrelling back inside, locking it behind her. With no pretence whatsoever she strode confidently up to him and threw her arms around his neck, propelling him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he collapsed onto the memory foam mattress.

She began to kiss him in earnest, tugging him half on top of her and winding her fingers through his haphazard hair. He responded automatically, surprised at the guttural moan that escaped him when her teeth grazed his bottom lip.

"Stupid, _stupid_ half Time Lord…" she muttered breathlessly, squirming slightly as he removed his lips to nip down the elegant column of her neck. Her hands trembled slightly at they moved to his shoulders – the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt elicited a shudder of desire through his body. Rose arched her back and pressed her chest against his as the sort-of-Doctor returned his ministrations to her mouth, that wondrous tongue of his demanding access in a way she'd always dreamed it would.

Snaking a hand between their crushing bodies, the sort-of-Doctor smoothed a hand down Rose's denim clad thigh and roughly hooked it over his hip, grinding against her in a way he hadn't expected to. She emitted a soft high pitched moan at this, and the scent of her arousal reached his nose. This spurred him on – all of the anger and hatred and love and lust and longing he'd felt for her being poured into this one human woman who was in turn giving him her fury, passion, and everything else she had.

Sparks seemed to erupt behind his eyes as her fingertips ghosted down the exposed skin of his arm – to her, seeing this bare flesh made him more attainable, more real, and she adored the sensation of being about to just _touch_ him. The man growled deeply and reached between them again to tug her t-shirt off – as much as he had wanted their first time to be sweet and gentle, there was no hope of that now. His companion responded in kind, her dark eyes full of flames as she took in the sight she never thought she'd see.

Pale, smooth skin smattered with freckles and a dusting of dark hair across his sternum. Slim, of course, but not as painfully so as she had imagined, just lithe and lean with toned muscles. He took a moment to look bashful, afraid that his slight frame might put her off. His companion ignored this questioning glance and moved her hands to the button of his jeans, not even bothering to toy with him for a while before she was yanking them down. He kicked them off impatiently and hers quickly followed suit, tangling round her ankles and making her swear quietly in frustration.

The sort-of-Doctor paused and levelled her an amused look, raising an eyebrow in that sexy way of his. Rose rolled her eyes and sat up, tugging off the remainder of her trousers and throwing them angrily to the floor with the rest of her clothing. He watched her as she did so, marvelling at her creamy complexion and sumptuous curves. How had he managed to repress these urges for so long?

Soon, even their underwear was shed and he was braced on his forearms above her, hips nestled comfortably between her legs. He still didn't speak; for once his gob seemed to have been rendered utterly useless. Normally, he knew, there would be some kind of foreplay, but they had reached a mutual understanding remarkably quickly that now was not the time. He could smell her arousal and feel his own – it was now or never.

Rose had no words either – she slid her hands down their bodies and guided him to her entrance, emitting a surprised squeak when he immediately sheathed himself inside her to the hilt and buried his face in the spot where her neck met her shoulder. They lay like this for several moments, simply drinking in the fact that this was really happening. Rose almost wanted to sob with joy at the sensation and relief, but decided to keep that for when she was alone – his ego was fragile enough without her _crying_. She instead tipped her hips up towards his, signalling for him to move when he was ready.

They moved together, somewhat erratically, it had to be said. They were too eager to prove their feelings to the other; to drink this whole experience in and allow the years of want and rejection and adoration to finally come to a head. There was neither rhyme nor reason to their rhythm – they were rough with each other: biting, sucking, scratching, gripping too hard – they both wanted to mark the other, both out of love and out of punishment. Rose's legs wound tightly around the sort-of-Doctor's waist as she urged him on, revelling in the bead of sweat than meandered its way down his angular jaw and long neck. He gave her what she wanted, moving as hard and fast as his single heart and burning muscles could cope with.

The sort-of-Doctor's eyes widened as Rose slipped a hand between her legs, giving herself friction where she needed it the most. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned softly, smiling gently when he groaned aloud with her. He could feel his orgasm beginning to coil in his stomach and her muscles beginning to tense around him as she strove desperately to hang on. Instinctually, without realising what he was doing, the sort-of-Doctor shifted his weight slightly and unclenched his fists, gently resting his fingertips on Rose's dripping temples.

It was as though someone had set her brain on fire; pleasurable, burning, _exquisite_ fire. Pictures flashed through her mind of her own face as seen by someone else, and she felt the all engulfing love the man beside her held for her. She felt his hurt, felt his adulation, and felt the pleasure which currently roared through his veins as intensely as it did through hers. He whispered to her telepathically in a hauntingly beautiful language she had no hope of ever understanding, the coiling of his orgasm felt just as intensely in her mind as his body.

That was when she knew for certain. It had been him all along – this man had been the one she had always been destined for. He was her sort-of… No. He was her Doctor. She finally connected the name with him and it registered in his mind, a wave of jubilation cresting over him. His sheer unadulterated ecstasy brought both of their orgasms on them simultaneously, their minds screaming and crying out to one another. Shuddering through their climax, the sort-of-Doctor broke the connection and collapsed completely on top of Rose, both of them breathing in short, sharp gasps. After a few moments, he collected himself enough to speak a few words.

"A minute ago, in your head – what did you call me?"

"Couldn't you make it out?"

"_Well_, not _really_. Could you say it out loud, just so I can make sure I got it?"

Rose nudged his nose with hers, eyes hooded. Her hand danced gently down from his neck and she wound her fingers carefully through his, taking his hand for the first time since Bad Wolf Bay. She looked solemn as she held his gaze.

"I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I said, Doctor."

* * *

The sort-of-Doctor (or, as we must now call him now that Rose has sorted herself out, the _Doctor_) had to admit he was quite impressed with himself. He had conjectured that he may still possess some form of telepathic ability, but that had been – _well_… He was just as talented a touch-telepath as he had always been, even if the rest of his skills had been somewhat rusty. He blushed inwardly at the memory of how sloppy he had been, with his chaotic rhythm and clutching hands. Rose hadn't seemed to mind, though. The Doctor grinned widely at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide with pleasant disbelief. Rose lay quietly next to him, once again tracing circles on the back of his hand. She stared silently at the ceiling, apparently too astonished at the situation to speak.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor spied the coat slipping from the end of the bed and onto the floor – the box that had contained it was at the other side of the room, and he wasn't quite sure who had thrown it there. The mere sight of the lush silk lining brushing the cream carpet made his heart leap to his mouth in horror, and he shot upright so quickly his vision went momentarily black. The sudden, unexpected movement brought Rose from her reverie and she started violently, looking around the room as though expected a Cyberman to emerge from his wardrobe or a Sontaran to crawl out from under the bed.

"What is it? What's wrong? Doctor?" she gasped, her hand suddenly empty as the man leapt out of bed with an exasperated growl. Were they under threat? Christmas in London after all, never exactly a safe place to be. The Doctor turned to her with a scandalised expression, pouting slightly.

"My coat! It's nearly on the floor! Janis Joplin gave – _well_… Even better, now. Rose Tyler gave me it!"

He crouched and swept it up into his arms, cradling it to his chest like the crown jewels or a cherished child. Rose beamed back at him, a warm sensation tingling through her veins.

"You like it, then? Thought for a minute then you didn't," she smirked, allowing her eyes to trail lazily over his exposed body as he moved around the room, selecting the very best place to display his new treasure. She had to admit that he had quite an impressive bum for someone so skinny – she devoured the way his waist tapered gently into his narrow hips, and the long, slender legs that were so well muscled from all the running he had been doing for so long. Hearing her content purr, the Doctor turned and looked at her enquiringly, hands still working to display his coat on the front of the wardrobe to the best of its advantage.

"Just admiring the view," Rose smirked, arching her back and stretching languorously. The right corner of the Doctor's mouth quirked up and his tongue slipped out of his mouth, licking absently at his lips. He waggled his bum teasingly at her, forever playing the fool; he couldn't deny that he was pleased though, and there was a renewed swagger in his step as he returned to her side, tossing himself carelessly down on the bed. Goosebumps had formed on his pale skin, and in a fit of combined cold and modesty he tugged the duvet around his body, surprised he'd been able to strut around in the nude so readily. Rose finally took the opportunity to tentatively wrap an arm around his waist and rest her cheek on his chest.

A few minutes passed by in a comfortable silence before the Doctor spoke again, his tone remorseful, his fingers gently winding through her bedraggled hair.

"I'm so sorry, by the way," he muttered. Rose frowned against his chest, confused.

"For what?"

His fingers moved momentarily from her hair and brushed her temples, sending a sensation akin to an electric shock through her.

"For performing telepathy without your permission. It's a mating ritual on Gallifrey – a natural reaction – an automatic instinct I didn't even realise I still had. It was invasive and if I hadn't been so carried away it wouldn't have happened. I really am sorry."

Rose shuffled away from him a little and held his chin, manoeuvring his head to make him look her in the eye. Shooting him a half smile, she raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"What are you _on_ about, you plum? It was amazing! You'll be in more trouble if you _don't_ do that every time."

"I didn't give you the chance to close –"

"I don't need to close any bloody doors against you now! Just promise me that you'll keep doing it."

"But-"

"If I had known when I met you just how hot telepathy can be, there is no way I'd have waited so long to jump you."

The Doctor sniggered smugly at that, jiggling his head from side to side in a way that echoed a certain Chiswick temp. His lips parted slightly and Rose spied the tip his tongue settling just behind his top teeth – the sight of it made her tingle. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke over him.

"And I have one more think I need you to promise me, while I'm at it."

"I am _not_ taking you to Raxacoricofallapatorius. I simply refuse. I-"

"No, that's not it – _this_ time. I want –"

She paused to kiss him then, letting her lips glide softly over his. He sighed contentedly against her mouth, sliding a hand to the back of her neck and holding her in position. Far more the kind of kissing he had imagined for the start of their relationship – sweet and loving. Breaking away, Rose continued in a whisper. She almost looked self-conscious.

"I want you to finally put that distracting oral fixation of yours to good use."

The Doctor swept his tongue absently around his mouth before speaking. His brow creased a little, as though he'd never considered the prospect.

"I don't know if I'd call it a _fixation_…"

"Oh, yeah, it is. You've always got that tongue doing _something_. I can think of some new tasks to put it to."

"What… Now?"

She thought for a moment – their rough coupling had left her achy and tender. At this moment she was content to simply lie next to him, revelling in the ability to just lean up and kiss him if she wanted to. He looked almost disappointed when she shook her head, but his eyes drooped sleepily at the same time.

"To be honest, I'd rather have a kip. Tony'll have us up at five tomorrow. It'll be bad enough explaining the bruises without falling asleep in the sprouts as well!"

* * *

Outside the bedroom door, Jackie paused on her way to the bathroom. Had she really heard Rose's voice coming from the Doctor's room? Pressing her ear against the door, she made out her daughter's voice intermingled with the deeper tones of the Doctor. What was she doing in there at this time of night? After the way they'd been tiptoeing round each other for weeks, there was no way anything would change. Must be planning trips they were going to take once that bloomin' spaceship was all up and running.

With a non-committal shrug, she continued on her way, swearing to herself she'd get to the bottom of this tomorrow. It was time for some digging.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for reading, reviewing and enjoying. Please continue to do so! I like this chapter very much - potentially my favourite. **

* * *

"Doctor?" Rose murmured, gently prodding the sleeping man next to her. He grumbled something unintelligible and turned away from her onto his other side, displaying some magnificent scratch marks on his back. She'd seen them when they'd taken it in turns to use his en-suite to clean up, but close at hand they were much more impressive – and, maybe, a little painful looking; certainly deeper than they needed to be. Rose supposed that a small part of her had wanted to hurt him at the time, but being faced with the evidence now made her heart sink guiltily. Murmuring his name again and tracing one of the scratches with an apologetic fingertip, she slid closer to him and nuzzled the freckle between his bony shoulder blades.

His body shook slightly as he giggled gruffly and tried to squirm away from her to escape the tickling sensation. Rose laughed and threw an arm around his waist, drawing him close to her and dropping a tender kiss to his neck.

"Sorry for waking you. Just wanted to let you know I'm gonna go and get myself sorted in the other guest bedroom – it's after four, Tony'll be up soon. Merry Christmas, by the way."

The Doctor craned his neck awkwardly to look at her. His brown eyes were still heavy with sleep, and his voice was gravelly as he spoke.

"Merry Christmas. You don't think we should tell anyone yet either, then?"

"You don't mind, do you? S'just, we've still got so much to work out."

"I don't mind in the slightest. We've got a long way to go," he replied simply, turning to her properly and fixing his eyes on hers with his usual unnerving steadiness.

For the first time since they'd come back to this world, Rose happily held his gaze. It felt strange to be lying there next to him in such a state of undress, having such a casual conversation in this intimate a situation. Strange, also, to have his hand splayed across the bare skin at small of her back, drawing her abdomen flush with his. This was the Doctor after all – she had finally settled on that fact. The last few hours had been strange, yes, but in a bizarre, extraordinary way - a disbelieving grin tugged at the corners of Rose's mouth as she basked in the memory.

"What?" queried the Doctor, drowsy smile lighting up his own face.

"Just thinking about a few questions I finally got answered, that's all," came the reply, her tone mischievous.

"Oh?" The Doctor's tongue touched his top lip as he spoke, eyebrows raised expectantly. Rose rolled her eyes – he always had to know everything.

"Just a few things I've been wondering for a while. I can confirm that, anatomically at least, you're human."

"Anatomically _you're _Gallifreyan! _Well_, minus the hearts thing."

"How was I supposed to know that though? For all I knew your crotch was smooth as a Ken doll and you mated with a tentacle growing from your elbow! You always keep your arms covered. It's like you wear your clothes like bloody armour or something. Or you were maybe a girl under there. That was another thought."

The man gaped, opening and closing his mouth several times in a way quite reminiscent of a goldfish. His eyes were wide.

"Please – what – you -" Taking a moment, he pressed his lips together and spoke slowly. "Please tell me you didn't really consider that as a possibility." Rose smiled back blushingly.

"Well, I'd _hoped_ I was wrong. Luckily I was! Human, male, bit bigger than average… Yeah, I was worried, but we're all good now."

"Just a _bit_ bigger? Bigger than Mickey anyway. _Surely_? Rose?!"

She ignored him, repressing her giggle at his sudden dread – he truly had nothing to worry about in that department, as far as she was concerned. Instead of indulging his male inferiority complex, Rose continued through the mental checklist of questions which had just been answered.

"Great kisser – could always tell you would be. Not quite as rough as I'd imagined, but I think if I get you angry enough…"

The Doctor lifted his eyes from where they'd been worriedly focusing, still focused on the issue of his male pride. He cocked an eyebrow. "_Imagined_, Rose Tyler?"

Rose flushed slightly at the recollection of lonely nights on the TARDIS when her imagination had gotten a little out of hand. Her dark, silent bedroom – her own damned fantasies getting the better of her again – the outcome of being a stupid ape with no real control over her hormones… In front of her, the Doctor's mouth had risen slightly in a smirk – the bugger was smug about something. It took her several moments of enjoying the sensation of him running his fingers through the hair at her temple to realise he'd been able to see what she'd been thinking. Scandalised, she wriggled away a few inches and smacked him painfully on the arm.

"You're such a dirty old pervert sometimes!" she whispered, thoroughly dismayed. The Doctor wasn't abashed.

"What, you think I didn't do my fair share? All that flirting and tension and nothing happening?"

"I thought it was against Time Lord pride or something!"

"I couldn't do it _with_ you, but I could certainly… _Well_, do I really need to explain? Whichever way you look at it, we're both filthy." He smiled enigmatically at her, and then dropped a scorching, languorous kiss to her eager lips. "Anyway, Tyler, it's time you hopped it to the other room. Allons-y!"

* * *

Right on cue, Tony came careering in the door of the second guest bedroom and leapt with catlike agility onto the bed Rose now occupied. Glancing at the clock, it read five fifteen - she'd managed to cadge an extra half hour of sleep before what promised to be a very long, tiring day. She already had an exhaustion headache beginning, and her muscles ached from the exertion of the previous night. She knew they'd been quiet – quieter than she'd ever been before. Most of this was down to his amazing talented telepathic mind; all sound had been stolen from them. Despite this, she was on edge as she hugged her little brother, fearful he might have heard something he shouldn't have. It was a huge house and the bedrooms were wide apart, but still… In spite of her worries, nothing seemed to be amiss and she clambered out of bed, staggering after her little brother as he tugged her roughly by the hand to wake their parents.

Jackie and Pete were reluctant to be roused so painfully early, but indulged their child and rolled wearily from their bed, throwing on dressing gowns and mentally steeling themselves – Christmas Day was always never ending as a parent. The little family trooped along the corridor towards the main staircase, stopping only when Tony demanded they wake the Doctor too – as far as he was concerned, the adults coffee could wait. Throwing open the door, the child woke the half Time Lord in the same manner as he had his sister, bouncing on his bed and shouting excitedly in his ear. Much to Rose's relief, the Doctor had remembered to throw back on the t-shirt he'd been wearing the night before, thankfully covering the evidence of her slightly vindictive pleasure. He connected his gaze with hers for a fleeting moment, and she felt a frisson of delight tingle its way up her spine.

Soon they were all crowded around in the cosy living room, a real log fire roaring in the grate (saved only for Christmas day, as Pete didn't agree with cutting down trees) and mugs of steaming coffee and tea scattered on the coffee table. Tony fell upon his presents like a starving man upon food, finding each one with his name on and placing it on the neat stack he'd created in the middle of the floor. Soon he had a pile almost as tall as himself and he fell to the thrilling task of opening them. Ever the methodical child (where he'd picked that up no-one could tell – certainly not a normal Tyler trait) he eased the sticky tape from the wrapping paper and then folded each sheet, squealing with sheer joy at every gift. He was especially pleased with the final gift he opened – the present the Doctor had bought him, which was his very own little blue suit, complete with rust coloured pinstripes. Jackie emitted a confused sound as she took in the gift, while Pete laughed.

"I told the Doctor that Tony was hankering after his own suit and he wanted one like his. Looks like you took the hint!" he chuckled, helping Tony slide his tiny arms into his tiny suit jacket.

"Do my hair like yours?" the little boy pleaded, pattering over to the Doctor with wide, eager eyes. The man laughed and drew the child onto his lap with an easiness that surprised himself.

"Alright, Tony Tyler. Sit still, now."

Rose watched with soft eyes as he ruffled the child's hair, making the front stand on end as best he could without any hair gel. She knew the Doctor had had children in the past, and that he'd lost his whole family in the Time War, but seeing how well he dealt with her little brother gave her an achy feeling in her chest that she associated with broodiness. Realising her mother had caught her doting smile, the woman rearranged her face into a more neutral mask.

The next few hours passed in companionable conversation as everyone opened their gifts and sipped their beverages. Pete and the Doctor ended up on the floor with Tony helping him to contrast a toy race track, pretending they had no interest whatsoever in playing with it themselves (although they really did). Jackie rose from her chair and plopped down on the Doctor's vacated seat next to Rose and waggled her eyebrows expectantly. The younger woman looked back at her over the lip of her mug.

"What's that look for?"

Jackie tucked her feet underneath herself and leaned closer to her daughter, speaking in low, confidential tones.

"You were in his majesties' room at nearly midnight last night," she stated, her tired eyes blinking rapidly. Rose tilted her head, feigning innocence.

"So?"

"So what were you doing? I heard you laughing on my way to the loo!"

"Talking about where we're gonna go when the TARDIS is grown, that's all. Stop being so nosey," she laughed, nudging her mother's pyjama clad shoulder. Jackie snorted.

"Yeah _right_. You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. Go on, tell me! What's happened? Did you finally –"

"Mum, shut _up_. Nothing's happened, alright? We're just friends."

"Don't give me that, Rose! Right from the start since the skinny arse regenerated you've been giving each other eyes all the bleedin' time. I know you fancied the one with the leather jacket and the ears but this one _loves _you. Loves you enough that he left you a version of himself that you could grow old with. Why can't you two just get your act together?"

She watched for any flicker of emotion in her daughter, but Rose was firmly keeping her own counsel. She did seem a little different – less melancholy than she had been for an immeasurably long time, certainly. Jackie grasper her hand tightly, and Rose felt regretful that the nature of the situation necessitated the little lie to the woman who'd been her rock for so long.

"Look, mum. We're just working through things, okay? The Doctor said that this version of him is the same as when I met him – dangerous. I helped him through that by being his friend, and that's what I'm doing again. He's getting better. If it's going to happen, it will. I promise you'll be the first to know, okay?"

Reluctantly, Jackie nodded and leaned forward to envelop her daughter in a tight embrace. As she pulled away, something peeking from beneath the neck of Rose's pyjama top caught her eye. Following her mother's gaze, Rose looked down and gawked momentarily before collecting herself.

"Bruise."

"Right."

"Been there a few days."

"Uh-uh."

"Doc – John – Handy? Are we going to go and visit the TARDIS today? I hate to think of her alone on Christmas!" Rose questioned shrilly, sliding onto the floor and crawling over to the boys who were now crooning over the inner working of a remote controlled car. The Doctor looked up with his face scrunched, indignant at the insulting nickname. As he opened his mouth to retort, Rose tilted her head just enough for him to see the offending mark he'd left on her neck – she'd kill him for this. Feeling Jackie's eagle eyed scrutiny and Rose's irritation, he backpedalled on what he was going to say.

"Oh yes! I need to check how the gyroscopic stabiliser molecules and atom accelerator are doing. Might have a look at the inertial dampers and read her a chapter of 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' too – brilliant book, just brilliant! Bit weird in this world, now that the White Witch is actually a man but - anyway. Yes. TARDIS. Right. Shall we?"

Grinning widely in mild panic, he unfolded himself from the floor and twitched his hand towards Rose before remembering she wouldn't be able to hold it while they kept up this pretence. Pete glanced at the clock – eight thirty.

"Rose, just flash your badge at the cameras and use the retina scanner and you'll get in no bother. See you later, don't be too long."

Heads down, the pair dashed from the room, Jackie's eyes narrowing as she watched.

In the corridor, they collapsed into a fit of chuckles like kids caught snogging behind the bike sheds at school. Taking the proffered hand, Rose walked with the Doctor up the stairs. Before they parted, he sighed deeply.

"I hate lying."

"We're not _lying_, really. Just… keeping it quiet. Now, let's go see the TARDIS. See you in ten."

With a fleeting kiss, she had released him and was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**And so we reach the end of The Sort-of-Doctor! Thanks to all those who enjoyed this story (including those of you who read but didn't review – I'd still love to hear your thoughts!). I thoroughly loved this story, and think it leaves itself open to a sequel… Or five. Who knows? x**

* * *

Linear living was really no fun. None at all. He leaned against the hood of Rose's car, huddled as deeply into his new coat as he could get – this new human physiology didn't deal well at all with the cold. He could feel the tip of his nose going numb and knew that if she kept him waiting much longer it might well fall off. If the TARDIS had been ready she could just have stayed in her pyjamas and foregone the makeup, but - alas – it was that very baby ship they were taking this exceedingly slow, tedious route to visit. Tilting his head back, the Doctor inhaled the crisp icy air and trained his eyes on the grey morning sky. Entire worlds lay up there, ripe for discovery, and he itched to begin his adventures. Even better, now that he could have Rose with him forever – or whatever their forever would be. Taking the slow path was not for him, but he bore it because he had to, and just being in any kind of proximity to Rose made it more endurable. She, with all her hating him and being angry at him, was now his complete reason for living. He half suspected she still harboured some aversion to him, albeit subconsciously, but hoped that eventually she would settle to loving him entirely and without reserve. So much had changed in the few months since they had arrived, but their relationship was far from perfect… However, he acknowledged not a little conceitedly, the previous night had been a step in the right direction.

Eventually, the woman in question exited the mansion, swathed in a pink puffer jacket than made her look like a vast candyfloss. She was grinning that dazzling grin, evidently elated at the sight of the long, slender figure enveloped by the familiar suit and coat. Jackie peered out of the living room window after her, her eyes narrowing dangerously; she knew when she was being lied to. The Doctor pondered the possibility of just admitting that they were going to give it a go – it seemed nonsensical to fib when she so obviously knew the truth. It was when Tony scampered up to the window next to her and began waving furiously, his hair still spiked at the front, that the Doctor realised it was he who needed to be protected. If anything should go amiss between himself and Rose, it was the little boy who could potentially suffer most.

Once they were settled in the car and cruising towards town, Rose turned down the radio and cleared her throat. She was feeling more than a little self-conscious after her brazen display the night before – human as he was, he was still the Doctor, for crying out loud! It was all her fantasies come alive, and it was taking a while to sink in that they were finally becoming reality. Her next words came out more confidently than she expected.

"I can't believe you gave me a love bite!" she shrieked, briefly turning her head to eye him with irritation. The Doctor held up his hands in a show of surrender.

"Well, according to you I've got an _oral fixation_, so of course I'm going to use my mouth at every opportunity. I dunno, though. I quite like them," he smirked, watching her face intently for a reaction. She pouted, keeping her eyes on the road.

"I suppose those scratch marks on your back **are** a bit lethal."

"And the tooth marks on my shoulder."

"And the fingertip shaped bruises on my waist."

"What?! Oh Rose, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be daft, you plum. It's fine."

"Do they hurt?"

"In a good way. A reminder."

They fell silent then, both engrossed in recollections of the events of Christmas Eve. The atmosphere became thick and electric, and Rose knew that their relationship was destined to become one of frequent erotic occurrences – already she understood just how impossible it would be to keep her hands off him. Seeming to sense her thoughts, the Doctor laughed darkly.

"We'd better take out medical insurance – we're a danger to ourselves." He paused before continuing proudly, "_Also_, I've been thinking!"

"Have you? Clever boy!"

"Shush, Tyler. I'm being brilliant. Care to listen?"

"Care to share?"

The Doctor whined childishly, infuriated by her gibes. Laughing, Rose reached her left hand across and ruffled his hair affectionately, never removing her eyes from the road. Taking this as his cue to continue, the Doctor sat a little straighter and began to voice yet more of his brilliant thoughts.

"I realised something while I was waiting for y-"

"While you were doing your hair, you mean."

"Rose!"

"Sorry, go on."

"Thank you. While I was _waiting for you_. There will always be a part of the other me with you," he stated simply, twining his spidery fingers together contemplatively in his lap. "What I mean to say is… This hand." He held up the hand in question, his right one, and rotated his wrist as though submitting it for inspection. "It was his before it was mine. I grew from it. I've got his memories, his mind, his feelings – which, I grant you, I can actually act on – and his hand."

Rose could not think of a way to reply, so confused was she as to why he was telling her this. When she asked as much, the man sighed deeply and remained silent for several moments, his eyes closed against the glaring light outside.

"Because, Rose Tyler, I understand. You will always love him, and that's okay, because it's still his hand you're holding. It's alright to remember that."

She took a moment to formulate a response, breathing deeply through her nose.

"Can't I love you both? I mean, of course I miss him. He didn't wiggle, for a start. He didn't break out into a Cockney accent every so often. He kept me at a safe distance. But you… It was always _you_ I was headed for, I know that now. I still love him because he's you, and I love you because you're him. His hand is your hand. You're the same person… sort of. Mostly. Almost entirely. All the important bits, anyway. Yeah, the same person."

The Doctor stared out of the windscreen, processing her sentence several times before forming a quiet reply.

"What did you say?"

Rose chuckled. "Those human ears aren't all they're cracked up to be, eh?"

"My senses are still sharper than the sharpest tack, thank you. I just want you to repeat what you said a moment ago."

"That you and him are essentially the same person, give or take a heart and wiggle?"

"Meeeeeh, a little bit before that."

"It was always you?"

"After."

"Oh… That I love you?"

"Oh yes, that bit. Say it again?"

"I love you."

After a meaningful pause, the tear choked Doctor responded, "Quite right too." Rose laughed throatily, tears of nameless origin prickling behind her eyes; she had to pull over into the hard shoulder as they threatened to fall and obscure her vision. Were they tears of joy or sadness? When he finally said the words out loud, not as an unfinished thought or a whisper on a stormy beach, she decided quite definitively that the tears were ones of joy.

"Rose Tyler, I love you too."

How stupid they both felt, allowing tears to fall over a few words, but after finally sleeping together and then vocally affirming their feelings all in the space of twelve hours, even a half Time Lord can feel overwhelmed. As Rose leaned across the gear stick to kiss him, the Doctor sniffed deeply and muttered something about his Prefrontal Cortex being susceptible to Donna's overly active emotions. Giving a broken chuckle at his feeble attempts to be manly, Rose latched her arms around his neck and pulled him close, ignoring the discomfort of the position, and set a gentle, adoring kiss on his lips.

"I know you said it before, but to actually hear you _say_ it to _me_... And to be able to respond…" he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in his delight. His voice, she noted, turned to a soft, almost falsetto sound when he was a happy kind of emotional, as opposed to the gruff murmur that appeared when he was inconsolably sad. The unadulterated elation that adorned his face was heart-breaking to behold – how long had it been since he could express love for someone? Leaning his forehead against hers, the Doctor continued to speak.

"Just after we got here, I was ready to give up… To take the coward's way out - leave you and strike out alone. I thought you could never want me. And can you imagine, being angry at _myself_? I was going mad, and I was so _so _angry, and so guilty for what I'd done to the Daleks, for what I'd done to _Gallifrey_… And you hated me, you really did, and I hated myself even more. But then…. You. Oh-ho-_ho_! _You_, Rose Tyler, gave me a chance. You brought me back to myself and helped me out of the blackness and now I have hope again! I haven't felt hope for so long. I owe you everything."

He stopped, a single honest to God tear sliding down his faintly freckled cheek. Rose's heart broke for him as she reached out to cradle his face in her hands, bumping his nose in her haste to kiss him again.

"You don't owe me anything," she whispered, brushing the pad of her thumb along his high cheekbone. The Doctor said nothing, fire blazing behind his ancient eyes. Slowly, his eyelids fell closed and his hands covered Rose's own, guiding them slightly higher so her fingers rested on his temples. He removed his hands and exhaled for a long second, the sweet, not-quite-earthly smell of his breath lingering pleasantly in her nose. Rose closed her own eyes and was startled to find herself inside his mind – his brilliant, brilliant mind.

All of the thoughts he'd had of her swam fluidly through their connected consciousness; all of the times he'd loved her and all of the times she'd been his saviour. His childhood, Gallifrey, all of his previous faces… A few details – such as his family, and his name - were still hidden behind doors, only to be revealed when (and if) they committed to one another in marriage. Much to her own surprise, Rose took this gentle dismissal in the loving, caring fashion it was intended, and perused his mind and memories allowed her with deference. This was enough for now. Finally they reached the moment they had been abandoned on Bad Wolf Bay: the complete and utter loathing he felt for himself at that moment was unbearable to witness, and Rose pulled her hands away, too afraid to watch further. The Doctor's eyes started open, his brow knitting.

"For future reference, just jolting out like that kind of hurts," he laughed roughly, frowning deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry. I just couldn't bear to –"

"I know. All I had left to show you was what you saw last night, anyway. I need to learn to stop just barging in on you like that – it's difficult to remember you're not used to telepathy."

"I can get used to it. I like it – I like feeling so close to you."

Silence reigned once again as several more chaste kisses were exchanged, both parties involved slowly coming down from the emotional peak they'd been teetering on for the past while. His mood once again turning on a dime, the Doctor twisted in his seat to face forward.

"Right, Rose Tyler, drive on. We're supposed to be visiting the TARDIS!"

* * *

Jackie and Pete stood huddled together in the cold grounds, watching Tony taking his remote controlled car for a spin – outside, so he couldn't break anything. She leaned heavily against her husband, snuggling into him as protection against the freezing day. As the youngster played, Jackie's thoughts turned to her older child. She voiced her concerns to Pete.

"They're keeping things from us, Pete. There's no reason for them to lie," she sighed petulantly.

"They're adults, Jack. They're being sensible and keeping it to themselves so no-one else gets hurt."

"Yeah, but-"

"_Jackie_!" Pete turned to face his wife and took her firmly by the shoulders, a longsuffering smile etched on his lined face. "We know what's going on – as if it wasn't obvious this morning. Point is, though, we can't push 'em. It's their relationship, and we need to let them work it out there way, okay?"

"Alright… I bleedin' hate it when you talk sense," the woman groaned, focusing once again on the five year old before them. Sometimes, being a parent was a right pain in the arse, it was.

* * *

The TARDIS really had grown. In just a day she'd almost doubled in size, and the swelteringly warm room was now bursting with shimmering golden light. This growth spurt was unprecedented, and the Doctor was beyond surprised when a familiar lilting hum penetrated his consciousness before he'd even exited the lift. When they'd entered CP6, however… Her presence was like coming home – he had missed this ship, his best friend, terribly. Contemplating a life with Rose by his side, travelling in the TARDIS, the Doctor realised he could actually be _happy_. What a thought!

Next to him, Rose's brow creased slightly. She massaged the spot between her eyebrows with the tip of her middle finger, nose wrinkling in apparent confusion.

"Doctor?" she murmured, reaching out and lightly taking hold of his arm. "Doctor, there's something in my head. It's like… a _buzzing_, or something."

"It's just the TARDIS, don't worry. She won't hurt you," he replied, not fully grasping the implication of his words. Rose let out a panicked breath.

"The TARDIS? But, how? I haven't looked at her, just like I promised! We could communicate a bit before, but how can she be in my _head_? Why am I not dead?"

The Doctor paused in his inspection of the developing coral, mouth slightly open as he considered her words. His glasses slid a little down his nose, but he didn't bother to push them back up again. Looking questioningly at the TARDIS, he listened intently to the ship's Gallifreyan reply.

"Because of the new status of our relationship, she has a small window into your mind. In the old world, you only communicated superficially – in the human way – or to translate languages. When we fully – or, well, _if _we fully commit to each other – that is to say human marriage, Gallifreyan bonding… You will be able to converse telepathically with her, and even fly her, once I've taught you how. At the moment, though, you're just present in each other."

"…Oh."

"Of course, if you don't want her to be present you can close the doors I was telling you about, she'll get the hint," he added quickly, realising that constant, unbroken telepathic communication wasn't for everyone. The TARDIS thrummed sadly, presuming Rose was opposed to her company. The woman in question gasped in horror, realising the implication of her short reply.

"What? No! Of course I want her. I'm just surprised, that's all. I thought having her in my head would – y'know – fry my brain. Wouldn't be the first time."

The TARDIS relaxed and the Doctor laughed, standing upright and walking around to where Rose stood, staring at the wall.

"Your brain would only be fried for two reasons – one, if you looked right into her heart, which you're not doing, so well done! That's one possible problem averted. Secondly, if you saw all the possibilities of time and space first hand. You can see them in _my_ mind, because I…_dilute_ them for you, if you will. But if you go all Bad Wolf on me again and literally absorb it into your own brain… Then we'd have an issue."

* * *

Three months sooner than expected, the Doctor entered CP6 of Torchwood to find a fully-fledged TARDIS console room, half contained within a glowing golden bubble. How sorry he was Rose hadn't been able to escape her assignment (ridding Middlesex of some pesky Carnafenuvian rats – how had they even _got_ here?!) to come and see this wondrous sight. He murmured words of affection in Gallifreyan, savouring the melodic resonances and guttural reverberations. Stepping inside the bubble, he slowly ran his right hand over the console; the familiar buttons and levers just crying out to be operated. Much as he wanted to, however, he had made a solemn pact with Rose than their first trip in this TARDIS would be together.

Still, he could tinker a little, couldn't he? Twirling a dial and focusing on the display screen, he was guided by the TARDIS through the various guises available to them on her newly repaired chameleon circuit. A Starbucks coffee stand? No chance. A public loo? Rassilon, no! A blue police box? Grinning, the Doctor pressed down on the big red confirm button, and the familiar desktop theme completed around him, doors forming a few feet away with small rectangular windows at the top. A small compartment just beneath his right hand slid open, and he glanced down at it, doing a double take when the object contained within registered.

"The fabrication dispenser! It's good as new! And – _oh_ – you sexy old thing, you! My sonic!"

The slim contraption fit into his palm as easily as it had before, the cool metal sending a shiver down his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end – he felt like the Doctor, completely, for the firs time in a awfully long time. He ached to get flying, but knew that Rose would skin him alive if he even took the tiniest trip – say, to the 1960s, just to make sure Janis Joplin didn't throw out her old brown coat. It was more than his life was worth to even try at the moment – that could wait. For now, he settled down on the jump seat and kicked his trainer clad feet onto the console.

When Rose entered Torchwood a few hours later, the sight in CP6 took her breath away. There it was – her old friend, standing there in cobalt resplendence, humming quietly. Clapping her hands together in glee, the blonde rushed forward and tenderly stroked the wood of the door, hurrying inside as quickly as she could. The console room was exactly as she remembered, right down to the man reclining a short distance away. His nose was, as was usual for him, buried in a book, but she knew fine well he was watching her.

"Where would you like to start?" he asked quietly; this was his favourite game. Putting on her best surprised face, Rose played along.

"It's… um… it's bigger on the inside than on the outside."

He stood up slowly, casting the book aside and taking meandering steps towards her, hands deep in his pockets. "Yes."

"It's alien."

"Yes."

"And… _you're_ alien?"

The Doctor stopped in front of her and extended his hand to her. She took it gladly, winding her small fingers through his long ones. He raised an eyebrow, considering the question a little more thoroughly than the first time she'd asked a long while ago. Deciding to draw out the game a little longer, he turned quickly and tugged her roughly towards the console.

"So, Rose Tyler, where do you want to go first? One hundred years into the future? Ten thousand into the past?"

He kissed her lazily then to prevent her answering, sliding his tongue fluidly into her mouth. As was her custom she went weak at the knees and buckled against him; he had to throw his free arm around her waist to hold her up. When they separated, his smile was cocky, eyebrows raised self-assuredly.

"Anywhere," she replied sultrily, smoothing her palms down his lapels. "But first, we were having a conversation! I know the _ship_ is alien, but I want to know if you are too."

Relinquishing his grip of everything but her left hand, the Doctor began turning dials and pulling levers without even having to look – this was still second nature to him. He hummed low in his throat, the same look of contemplation crossing his face once again. He repeated her question back to her.

"You want to know if I'm an alien…"

A pause, as he threw down the final lever to send them spiralling off into the vortex.

"Well? Are you?"

"Oh yes! _Well_, actually, no. _Weeeell… _Sort of."


End file.
